


Just Tonight

by TwoSpoonsOfSugar



Category: Sons of Anarchy
Genre: BDSM, Canon-Typical Violence, Canonical Character Death, Consensual Non-Consent, Consensual sexual violence, Domestic Violence, Drunk Driving, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Graphic Description, Imprisonment, Multiple Partners, Parent Death, Parental Abuse, Past Child Abuse, Rough Sex, Sex Work, Smut, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Unhealthy Relationships
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-24
Updated: 2021-03-06
Packaged: 2021-03-10 05:14:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 20,883
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27618221
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TwoSpoonsOfSugar/pseuds/TwoSpoonsOfSugar
Summary: Arianna 'Ree' De Luca lost everything the night her father wrapped their car around a tree and caused the death of her mother. Abandoning her nearly completed Bachelor's Degree, Ree leaves southern California to come home to Charming and care for her sixteen-year-old brother, Anthony. As her world is collapsing, Ree finds herself desperate for money and on the receiving end of an offer she can't refuse. She takes up a job at the Sons of Anarchy clubhouse, getting more than she bargained for after a drunken night with a wild-eyed Man of Mayhem. Her world is soon spinning out of control, but Ree is determined to provide for her brother and bring them both out of the pit their now-incarcerated father left them in.Along the way, she discovers just how much depth a heart can have, and just how much beating hers can take on the road to happiness. Her happily-ever-after won't look like anyone else's, but Arianna Teresa De Luca has never been like anyone else.(a semi-noncanonical story taking place in 2008, beginning in Season 1 of SoA)
Relationships: Chibs Telford/Original Female Character(s), Half-Sack Epps/Original Female Character(s), Happy Lowman/Original Female Character(s), Juice Ortiz/Original Female Character(s), Opie Winston/Original Female Character(s), Tig Trager/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 10
Kudos: 31





	1. Character Descriptions & Story Info

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A simple guide to the characters in "Just Tonight", as the original characters are a bit confusing.

**The original characters in "Just Tonight" are the members of the De Luca family, four of whom moved to Charming in 2000 (Ree, Tony, and their parents.) There are eight children in the family. The eldest seven children are all adopted, and the youngest, Tony, was a surprise baby, and the only biological child. All facts below are true as of 2008, the year our story takes place.**

**Father: Christian De Luca**

  * Age: 62 (born 1946)
  * Residence: Charming, CA
  * Current status/position: Incarcerated (former contractor)
  * Description: salt & pepper shaggy hair, matching goatee, fair olive skin, hazel eyes. rangy and muscular. 6 ft 2 in tall



**Mother: Anna De Luca**

  * Age: 59 (born 1949)
  * Residence: Charming, CA 
  * Current status/position: Deceased (former school teacher)
  * Description: thick, long blond hair, peachy-skinned, warm green eyes. soft and curvy. 5 ft 4 in tall



**Eldest Son: Zachariah De Luca**

  * Age: 38 (born 1970)
  * Residence: New York City, NY
  * Current status/position: Stockbroker
  * Parental relationship: Adopted
  * Description: short-cropped chocolate hair, smooth-shaven, olive-skinned, rich brown eyes. well-built and solid. 6 ft 1 in tall



**Second Eldest Son: Matthias 'Matty' De Luca**

  * Age: 36 (born 1972)
  * Residence: Philadelphia, PA
  * Current status/position: Writer
  * Parental relationship: Adopted
  * Description: thick golden curls, stubbly-cheeked, porcelain-skinned, bright blue eyes. lean and wiry, agile. 6 ft tall



**Third Eldest Son: Kieran De Luca**

  * Age: 35 (born 1973)
  * Residence: Austin, Texas
  * Current status/position: Bar Owner
  * Parental relationship: Adopted
  * Description: midnight black, shaggy hair, smooth-shaven, pale-skinned, icy blue eyes. broad-shouldered and fit. 6 ft 3 in tall



**Middle Son: Isaiah De Luca**

  * Age: 33 (born 1975)
  * Residence: Seattle, WA
  * Current status/position: Physician Assistant
  * Parental relationship: Adopted
  * Description: black, short-cropped hair, stubbly-cheeked, porcelain-skinned, deep brown eyes. stocky and muscular, wide-shouldered. 5 ft 10 in tall



**Third Youngest Son: Julian De Luca**

  * Age: 31 (born 1977)
  * Residence: Long Beach, CA
  * Current status/position: Artist
  * Parental relationship: Adopted
  * Description: curly soft brown hair, bearded, tan-skinned, amber eyes. lithe and lean, dancer's build. 6 ft 2 in tall 



**Second Youngest Son: Sebastian 'Bash' De Luca**

  * Age: 30 (born 1978)
  * Residence: Boston, MA
  * Current status/position: Bookstore owner
  * Parental relationship: Adopted
  * Description: short-cropped brown hair, olive-skinned, brown eyes. fit, broad-shouldered. 5 ft 11 in tall



**Only Daughter: Arianna 'Ree' De Luca**

  * Age: 26 (born 1982)
  * Residence: Charming, CA
  * Current status/position: Assistant to SoA club members, small business owner
  * Parental relationship: Adopted
  * Description: long, espresso waves, creamy skin, amber eyes. willowy, almost elfin in features. 5 ft 7 in tall



**Youngest Son: Anthony 'Tony' De Luca**

  * Age: 16 (born 1992)
  * Residence: Charming, CA
  * Current status/position: high school student
  * Parental relationship: Biological child
  * Description: shaggy brown hair, fair olive skin, hazel eyes. solidly built, muscular and fit. 6 ft 3 in tall




	2. Coming Home & Going Crazy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ree comes to terms with her new job, and the past is revealed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 🎧👇song of the chapter👇🎧
> 
> (from Ree to Tony)
> 
> _"May you grow up to be righteous;_
> 
> _may you grow up to be true._
> 
> _May you always know the truth,_
> 
> _and see the lights surrounding you._
> 
> _May you always be courageous,_
> 
> _stand upright and be strong._
> 
> _And may you stay forever young."_
> 
> \- "Forever Young" by Audra Mae and The Forest Rangers

***Charming, California***

Monday, April 7th, 2008 (7:07 AM)

**_[Arianna]_ **

"You have your books, T?"

My little brother shot me a droll look, hooking his book bag over his shoulder. "Shit, I thought this thing felt light," he replied dryly.

I reached across the car and shoved his shoulder, rolling my eyes good-naturedly. To call him my 'little' brother was becoming increasingly difficult, seeing as he towered over me by at least six inches- he was as tall as Kieran, the tallest of my six older brothers- and you could fit two of me in his sixteen-year-old shadow. "Don't be a smart mouth, kid."

Tony grinned at me, all straight white teeth and fair olive skin. "Sorry, Ree." His hazel eyes were just like our father's, so exact a copy I had to look away, feeling overwhelmed. "You workin' today?"

"Every day of my life," I joked. Because I knew he was starting to suspect the intricacies of my life at the Sons of Anarchy clubhouse, and he didn't like it, I changed the subject. "Do you have lunch money?" I asked.

He nodded, brushing his shaggy brown hair out of his eyes. "I've got a few bucks."

I reached into my purse, pulling out a five. "Go nuts," I said jokingly, pushing it into his reluctant palm.

"Thanks," he muttered. I knew he'd spend as little of it as possible, and use every trick in the book to get out of accepting more money tomorrow.

Because it made me feel grateful and saddened, all at once, I reached out to give his hand a squeeze. "I'll see you tonight, okay?"

He nodded. "What time?"

I winced internally. "It'll be late," I said gently. "But I made up a lasagna for you. Just pop it in the oven for about forty minutes."

"'Kay." He leaned across the car, dropping a kiss on my cheek. "Love you, Ree."

"Love you too, kid. See you tonight." I watched him hop out of the car and swing the door of our ancient Caddy closed, jogging across the high school's lawn to meet up with his group of friends. A couple of them waved at me, and Jack- the one I thought of as a wannabe Casanova- blew me a kiss, earning a punch on the shoulder from Tony.

Shaking my head on a smile, I pulled away from the curb and aimed the car towards Teller-Morrow Automotive. The drive there was filled with my usual early morning thoughts, a confusing swirl of contradictions that was enough to push a headache to the forefront of my mind.

I wasn't ashamed of my job. I know a lot of women wouldn't be caught dead associating with a known outlaw motorcycle club, but the Sons had always been kind to me, right from the first times we'd met- some of them before they were even officially Sons.

I'd briefly gone to high school with Opie and Jax- and their one-time girlfriends, Donna and Tara. We hadn't run in the same circles, me being a freshman and them in their senior year, but they'd always been nice to me. On my first day of school, Jax had even helped me get my bearings, pointing out which way my classes were and advising me on which kids to stay away from. I still smiled to remember stumbling upon Opie at the vending machine, shooting me a grin that was half-guilty and half-mischievous as I caught him jimmying free sodas from the machine. He'd been massive even then, albeit less scruffy, and I could still see him offering me a Coke and a handshake in greeting.

We'd all gone our separate ways after their graduation night, passing like ships in the night at the handful of parties being thrown all over town. I'd finished up my own school years, seeing them occasionally around Charming and always being glad to stop and say hi.

After my own graduation, I'd been headed down south for college, leaving town the next morning and watching my parents shrink in the rear view mirror. My mom's tears were still fresh in my mind's eye as I pulled away, and Tony's solemn promise to call every week had bolstered my nerves. They’d be okay, I told myself. With Tony there to keep them together, everything would be alright. I wish I’d known how wrong I would be. I never would have left if I’d had any idea the horrible events that would transpire with me gone.

See, I'd moved to Charming with Tony and my parents back in my freshman year of high school, when he'd still been tiny and goofy and our family had still been intact. My dad had decided to open a construction company in town, and Mama had gotten a job teaching second grade at Tony's school. My six older brothers- yup, _six_ \- had all graduated and gone off to college already, and it was just me and Tony still living at home. They wrote and called all the time, but it wasn’t the same. I'd missed each of them terribly as they’d turned eighteen and moved out, and the house was so quiet once Bash left, all of them moving on with their lives and leaning us behind.

I think that’s why Mama and Dad started fighting, originally- with the older boys gone, and their last adoptive child soon to be gone as well, they no longer had anything to say to each other. They’d been nothing but parents for so long- first of the foster variety, as doctors had told Mama she’d never have children- and then of the permanent variety, once they’d taken in Zachariah, the oldest, and legally adopted him. They’d added on five more boys over the years, finally adopting their first girl when they’d brought me home, twelve years after they’d adopted Zachariah. And then- surprise, surprise- Mama had finally gotten pregnant, at age forty-one, bringing home the only child who was ever biologically theirs.

Tony was Mama’s heart and soul, her precious little miracle. He was babied from the very start, and none of us older kids really minded. We’d all wondered over the years if she and Dad had brought home so many kids to fill the void in her heart at never having a child of her own, and Tony seemed to prove us right. She was a helicopter mom with him, always one step behind him and armed with an endless supply of love and kisses. She’d loved us too- she was always hugging her kids, singing to us at night and reading us endless hours of stories during those long, hot summer days- but she was _gone_ over Tony. That’s what made the accident even more terrible, and what still broke my heart the most about my coming home.

I’d had a good life down in SoCal, for a little while. I'd made new friends, even dating a few out-of-state guys on and off, and earning straight A's in all my classes. I would come home for holidays and summer breaks, watching Tony shoot up and fill out a few inches every time I returned, and watching Mama look increasingly stressed and tired. I would run into SAMCRO and their families in town, and Jax and Opie would always stop me to say hi, introducing me over the years first to Juice, then Happy, then Kip. I would see Gemma and Clay and Tig around, occasionally with Chibs or Bobby in tow, and they'd ask about my dad and the business, commenting on how massive Tony had gotten and asking me about school. It was calm, back then. I'd enjoyed life, without worry or anger or regret. I still missed my older brothers, who had yet to ever come visit us in Charming- even Julian, who was just down state- but they called me several times a week, and sent letters and presents to me and Tony at every birthday and Christmas. Life was good, as good as it could be with the obvious rift growing between my parents. I’d liked my life, and the people in it. Things were calm, happy even.

Then, two years ago, it had all changed. My dad's secret life- the drinking, the gambling, the fighting that went on behind my parents' closed bedroom door- was all revealed in one horrible, life-altering moment. Dad had wrapped our old minivan around a tree trunk one night, driving home drunk with my mom and Tony in the car. He'd survived. Mama hadn't.

I'd been just a couple of months out from graduating, and I was on track to graduate magna cum laude with a BA in business. That dream had died along with my mother. My father was given eighteen years in prison- fifteen for the death of my mother, three for the serious injuries caused to my baby brother- and I'd had to quit school, coming home to be my then-fourteen-year-old brother's legal guardian, and trying to pick up the pieces of our lives.

My older brothers had offered to move home, to take care of Tony and let me finish college. I’d refused. I could tell as soon as I’d raced into the hospital room and found him with a broken collarbone and a skull fracture that he needed me. I was the one he’d spent most of his life with- the next oldest, Sebastian, had gone off to college when Tony was only four- and I knew he needed a surrogate mom. My mom had doted on him, been the best mother in the world- and he didn’t need some tough older brothers who barely knew him coming into his life and trying to be his parent. He needed me, the sibling he was closest to, and I would give up anything to make his life as comfortable and normal as possible. I just didn’t know how the Hell I was going to do that.

It had actually been Jax who had offered me the job at the clubhouse. He and Opie had both come to my mother's funeral, along with Donna and Gemma. They'd all given their condolences, along with gracious offers of help and employment. I'd nodded back in a daze, gripping Tony's hand tightly in mine and staring down at my mother's rose-covered casket.

I hadn't been stupid. I knew working for the Sons, accepting any favors from the MC, meant you'd be owing them one- or hundreds- back, likely for the rest of your life. You didn't do temporary business with the club, and trying to get out and away from them was nearly impossible. But I'd needed work, and a flexible schedule to be there for Tony. And with just the two of us, and my older brothers not around, I'd craved the kind of protection the Sons could provide for us. I'd seen the kind of people Jax and Opie had become, and I knew the kind they'd always been. So I'd decided to take them up on the offer.

My older brothers, who’d flown in for the funeral, had been suspicious and downright against the arrangement. I’d told them it was my business, and I knew what was best for Tony. I’d lived in this town, and I knew that the Sons would help protect us, as long as we were loyal and kept our mouths shut. They’d been worried, and as over-protective as always, but I’d assured them we would be okay. Besides that, I knew what my mom and dad had gone through to send them all off to college, and get them established in the world. I didn't want to take their lives away from them, the way mine and Tony's had been taken. So I'd put on a brave face, and insisted we would be fine.

After a few back and forth fights, they’d eventually all flown home, disappearing off to their various states. Zachariah and a couple of the others sent money every month or so, a couple hundred here or there to help us out. But with Dad’s gambling debts, it wasn’t nearly enough. I needed the employment at the clubhouse. I needed employers who understood family and protecting each other, and the “it takes a village” mindset. The Sons were the perfect people to turn to.

I’d started work there a week after the funeral, making myself useful and fulfilling my end of our agreement. I wasn't a sweet butt, or a Crow Eater; I had no desire to be anyone's Old Lady someday, or their favorite lay. I was essentially their go-to girl: I worked the bar, cooked for the club when needed, ran errands for Gemma and the club members, even babysat for Opie’s kids when I could. I also used whatever intel and connections I had to assist them with their club business, with the understanding that anything regarding the club was absolutely top secret, even from Tony. It could be anything from answering questions about people I knew in town to relaying messages and running packages. I enjoyed my work most days- I was the type to get bored easily, and my run-around-town position kept me on my toes and kept the boredom at bay. But the biggest mindfuck of my job was the newest attribution of it- the one I was loath to think about, even to myself.

It had all started with Happy Lowman. At a club party two months ago, back in February, we'd spent all night at the bar, getting insanely drunk and flirting like there was no tomorrow. Tony was spending the night at a long-time friend's house, and I had been nursing a secret crush on the wild-eyed Man of Mayhem for months. So it hadn't taken long for his gruff voice and wicked smile to get under my skin, combining with the whiskey and the way his eyes dragged slowly over my body, like he wanted to lean over and take a bite out of me. We’d staggered down the hall to a vacant dorm, tearing at each other's clothes and fucking like rabbits all over his room, until I was sore and sated with the effort of it.

I'd woken up with my head pounding and a surprisingly cheerful Happy curled around me, who I had assumed would be long gone or ready to kick me out.

"You're full of surprises, you know that?" he'd mused as I'd cracked open my eyes, feeling the weight of his arm draped across my waist. "I wouldn't have thought a sweet girl like you would be capable of shit like that."

I'd glanced down at where he was gesturing to see faint rope burns on my wrists, their existence surprising but not altogether unpleasant. I'd learned a thing or two in college, and I was happy to be spanked and bound- by the right guy, of course. "You know what they say," I'd said faintly, sitting up and bringing the sheet with me. "Don't judge a book by its cover, and all that."

He'd sat up next to me, giving me the same dark smile from the night before, and my toes had curled involuntarily. "You know, some of the other guys get bored of the same old 'bad girl' shit with the Crow Eaters. Some of them would pay good money to spend a night with a sweetheart like you." I'd felt surprised at his semi-kind statement, before his grin turned wolfish. "Especially if they could tie you up and pin you down."

I had shrugged, looking away. "I'm not a Crow Eater," I'd rebuffed him airily, looking around for my clothes. "I don't plan on being another willing lay for the Sons, but thanks anyway."

Happy had hopped up, completely naked, and plucked my bra off a chair. He'd looked around, locating his boxers and sitting next to my hip as he pulled them on. He'd held my bra out to me with a surprisingly gentle look. "You're not a whore," he had said, very seriously. "But you're a really pretty girl that most every guy out there thinks is off limits- and has for a long time. Do you know what they'd pay to be with you?"

I'd taken my bra, studying him intently. "That sounds like a whore to me," I'd said quietly.

He'd shaken his head. "It wouldn't be the same. They'd show you much more respect. They know you; they see you outside of the bedroom, they work with you, and they rely on you. You’re a respectable lady, and you’re fucking gorgeous, without all the fishnets and leather. If you did this, you'd have more money to support you and Tony."

I had blinked in surprise, looking up at him. "You know about Tony?" Happy was around more often than most out-of-town Sons, but I hadn’t thought he’d known anything about my life.

He'd smiled then, and it was nothing but kind. "Jax has mentioned him in passing. And you talked about him last night. You're awful proud of that kid."

I had felt myself smile faintly. "He's a great kid," I'd agreed. "He's gonna be somebody. Someone important."

"You could help him." Happy had looked at me seriously then, his expression intent. "You've got something these guys go crazy over- that sweetness in you, that kindness. They don't get a lot of that kind of respect in town, not from nice girls like you. And you’re different from what they’re used to- you don't dress like a Crow Eater, or act like one. They know you, and they like you. You could do what we did last night-" here he'd shot me a grin, one I'd willingly returned- "and get paid to do it. It's like making money for a hobby you enjoy."

I'd mulled over his words, touched when he rubbed a calloused hand over my back. "I'll think about it," I'd decided.

And I had. I’d gone home that day, running through the motions of my daily life on autopilot. I'd cleaned the two-bedroom apartment Tony and I shared, vacuuming floors and scrubbing the bathroom without really being aware of it. I went to the grocery store, loading up on food and coming home to start meal-prepping dinners for the week. I’d built casseroles and cut up veggies and seasoned meat, storing it all neatly in containers and washing my prep dishes. I’d stood barefoot in our little kitchen, pushing a spatula through a skillet full of our dinner veggies and calling back and forth to Tony at the table, helping him with his homework and joking about his friends and his classes. I’d moved through the entire day with my mind somewhere else, contemplating what my life would look like if I took Happy up on his offer.

I didn’t want to be a prostitute. And I had no qualms that that’s exactly what I would be, whatever cute little moniker I wanted to slap on it. Granted, I’d have some perks that most sex workers didn’t- I’d get to choose my ‘clients’, and I wouldn’t _have_ to do anything I didn’t want to do. I made decent money with my current job at the clubhouse- getting paid under the table helped- but I couldn’t have suspicious income when my legal guardian status was contingent on providing a safe, legal home for Tony. So I operated a second business out of my home, a small seamstress and tailoring company that I’d built up myself after Mama had died. I hadn’t gotten my degree, but my business classes hadn’t gone to waste after all- silver lining, I suppose.

But we were still scrimping, still crammed into this little apartment and cutting corners at every turn. We had shitty health insurance, and no savings, and the looming weight of paying for Tony’s college on the horizon. I did everything I could to make ends meet- I’d made a lot of my own clothes, supplementing with thrift shop finds and consignment shop treasures. I’d been zealous with our budget, sacrificing bits and pieces of my own wants- the thirty-dollar-a-bottle moisturizer I preferred, the high-end makeup I’d used all through college- and putting the money towards giving Tony a good life: healthy food in the fridge, the new ‘it’ sneakers on the first day of school, money for football gear- even the electric guitar for his sixteenth birthday, the one that he’d coveted all year. He’d had so much taken from him- he hadn’t gotten to grow up with a happy houseful of older brothers, or been able to go off to college with his head in the clouds and a certainty that life would always be good and our parents would always be alive and happy. I couldn’t bring Mama back, or go back in time and slap the bottle out of Dad’s hands, but I could give Tony a happy life now. So I’d decided to take Happy up on his offer, and I’d agreed to use my body to finance my life.

That had been two months ago. Since then, business has been thriving- to dance around the subject- and I was late for one of my recurring appointments. Pulling out my cell as I sat at a red light, I flipped it open and started typing a text.

_sorry I'm late. traffic @ the school._

It wasn't until the next red light that I got a reply. I flipped open my cell, glancing down at the screen.

_you'll make it up to me._

I smiled to myself, butterflies erupting in my stomach. I'd been careful over the past two months to keep my heart firmly out of this precarious situation. I knew the dangers of falling for men that weren't mine- ones whom, at the end of the day, I didn't want to be mine. I didn't see romance in my foreseeable future, and a committed relationship sounded like a whole bundle of stress and trust issues that I just didn't feel ready to tackle at this point in my life. I was confident I hadn't developed true, genuine romantic feelings for any of them, but I knew the fondness and affection I felt when we were alone was inevitable. Sex is great, sex is fine- but those moments of stolen passion and closeness were all I got in the tenderness and affection department, and I treasured them for what they were.

_of course I will. be there soon._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Comments🗨 and kudos❤ are very much appreciated!


	3. Wham, Bam, Thank You Ma'am

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ree has an appointment, and her paramour is impatient.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *****PLEASE READ THE TAGS*****
> 
> 🎧👇song of the chapter👇🎧
> 
> (from Happy to Ree)
> 
> _"I hear you calling,  
>  and it's needles and pins.  
>  I wanna hurt you  
>  just to hear you screaming my name.  
>  Don't want to touch you,  
>  but you're under my skin.  
>  I wanna kiss you,  
>  but your lips are venomous poison._
> 
> _You're poison,  
>  runnin' through my veins.  
>  You're poison;  
>  I don't want to break these chains;  
>  poison._
> 
> _One look could kill;  
>  my pain, your thrill._
> 
> _I wanna love you,  
>  but I better not touch.  
>  I wanna hold you,  
>  but my senses tell me to stop.  
>  I wanna kiss you,  
>  but I want it too much.  
>  I wanna taste you,  
>  but your lips are venomous poison._
> 
> _You're poison,  
>  runnin' through my veins.  
>  You're poison;  
>  I don't want to break these chains;  
>  poison."_
> 
> \- "Poison" by Alice Cooper

***Charming, California***

Monday, April 7th, 2008 (7:46 AM)

**_[Happy]_ **

Arianna pulled into Teller-Morrow’s lot in her Daddy’s old black Cadillac, her dark espresso hair hiding her face from me as she swung into a parking spot across from the clubhouse. I couldn’t see her amber eyes, or her full red lips, but I knew they would pull up into a smile as soon as she saw me, crinkling those glowing eyes and lighting her up into something ethereal.

It fed my ego to know it. It was simple fact, and there was no point in denying it. I’d been told for most of my life that I didn’t have feelings- aside from rage and psychosis- but I knew that wasn’t true. I just didn’t feel the need to fucking show them to everybody, and I didn’t deny myself the dark emotions in life, the ones everyone else spent their lives hiding or running from. I liked what I liked, and I was who I was. My brothers understood and loved me for it, and the feeling was mutual. They took me for who I was, darkness and depravity and all.

They had, however, been surprised to hear about my proposition to Arianna. I'd brought it up to a handful of my brothers one night at the bar, telling only the ones that I thought might be interested. I'd made my picks by selecting the guys whose eyes I'd seen lingering on the young brunette- noting which guys I'd caught watching her from across the clubhouse, and following her swaying hips as she crossed the room. I'd purposefully not extended the invitation to Clay, knowing Gemma would kill me herself if I did, and Bobby, who Arianna had said more than once reminded her of her father. I'd included Jax and Opie in the conversation as well, not so much expecting them to take part but more so as a courtesy. They'd been her friend since her freshman year, and they'd gotten her the job at the clubhouse after her mom had been killed.

Opie especially had been pissed off, saying Ree wasn’t that kind of girl, and we shouldn’t turn her into one. I disagreed. The Arianna I’d seen that dark February night had been different from the persona she put on in public- the responsible big sister, the caretaker and business woman. That night, she’d been limitless, open and bared: with my ropes around her limbs and my teeth in her skin, her nearly-orange eyes blown wide and dilated beyond recognition. She’d looked at me without fear, without boundaries, and I’d known in that moment that she wasn’t Ree De Luca: she was Arianna, with her trust offered up in her palm and her normally guarded eyes soft with her willingly given vulnerability. It had made me wild to see it. I’d wanted to mark her, to claim her; I wanted to praise her bravery and punish her fear. I wanted her crazy for me. I wanted her to scream and moan and gasp. I wanted to make her hurt.

The line between what I felt and what I did was dangerous, razor-sharp and always a perilous one. It was no secret that I enjoyed my job- the Tacoma Killer isn’t a title they hand to just anyone. I knew it was twisted; I reveled in that darkness, the rush of power and the sting of the needle in my abdomen, tallying up each of my victims. But I knew somewhere deep inside where the line was- even I had one, sick as I was, and children and innocents were off limits. Arianna was _so_ innocent, arousingly so, like the white angel to my black demon, and watching her on her knees, giving herself so willingly to my darkness, was better than any high I’d ever had.

But _fuck,_ I craved her pain. I wanted to chase her every sting and throb with an earth-shattering orgasm, but it didn’t stop the bone-deep desire I felt when she cried out and sobbed and screamed. I was drunk on her in those seconds, wild with the power and high on the control. She never pulled away from my slap. She never dodged my bite. She turned up her cheek and offered her neck willingly, and fuck if it didn’t fuel me.

She stepped out of her car in neat dark jeans and a wine red, knit V-neck sweater, and I felt everything in me go hard. She looked so fucking _pure,_ soft and sweet and as off-limits as anything, and I couldn’t stop myself from pushing off the wall of the clubhouse and crossing the lot to meet her.

She smiled at me, trusting as a little lamb. “Hey,” she greeted, as I closed in on her. “Sorry I’m la-”

I’d already reached out and yanked her forward, my grip around her neck firm enough to feel her pulse tick beneath my palm. Her gasp was delicious, as surprised and naive as if I’d never touched her before. “You kept me waiting,” I informed her, before slamming my lips to hers.

There was the taste of sugar on her tongue, something sweet and syrupy, laced with cinnamon. She all but melted beneath my ministrations, reaching out to grip my forearms for balance as I plundered her mouth. I pulled her flush against me, tightening my grip on her throat until she whimpered, before releasing her and swallowing her dreamy sigh.

She smelled like everything good and natural- coconut in her hair, vanilla on her skin, something sweet and spicy on her wrists. I pulled one up to my nose, breathing her in. “You smell different,” I growled. “What is it?”

She watched me sniffing her skin with undisguised desire, her eyes hooded. “It’s amber,” she breathed, her full lips parted as I trailed my lips down her forearm, nipping at the bend of her elbow as she gasped shakily. “I ran out of the jasmine perfume.” She studied me carefully as I gripped her wrist in my hand, her hip locked in my grasp and our faces an inch apart. “Do you like it?”

I pressed my lips to the rise of her cheek, pulling her against me hard enough to earn a faint moan in response. “Get inside,” I commanded. “Now.”

She didn’t protest as I half-pushed her down the hall to the dorm I often used, whenever I was in town. She shuffled ahead of me with her cheeks flushed, looking so damn tempting I picked her up, carrying her the last fifteen feet and shouldering open the door.

I kicked it closed behind me, tossing her across the room and onto my mattress as she yelped, landing on her elbows and looking breathlessly up at me. Her eyes widened as I unbuckled my belt, and I watched her swallow nervously with a growing satisfaction. “Take off your sweater,” I demanded.

“Okay.” She complied readily, sitting up on her knees and pulling it off over her head. I wanted to groan when I saw her simple white bra.

"Shoes off." I pulled my belt from its loops as she obeyed, watching her expression oscillate between curiosity and apprehension. “Stand up,” I ordered. When she obeyed, I approached, boxing her in against the mattress and folding the belt in two. I reached down and gripped the front of her jeans, never taking my eyes off hers as I unsnapped them. “Hands,” I barked. She offered her wrists up willingly, and I studied her dilating pupils with avid interest as I cinched the belt around her hands, weaving it through and around until she was bound, helpless and willing. “Behind your head,” I instructed, guiding her tied wrists over her head and settling them behind her neck.

I spun her around by her hips, fueled on by her shaky gasp. “Hap,” she murmured, as my hands skimmed down her thighs, sliding her jeans to her feet.

“Yes?” I felt insane with her right in front of me, helplessly tied and offering in her white bra and panties, her jeans around her ankles.

She shuddered in a breath, her skin awash in goosebumps. “Touch me,” she pleaded. “Please.”

The first strike took her by surprise, and she cried out as a red handprint appeared on her gorgeous pale skin, glowing hot and enticing on the curve of her perfect ass. “Fuck,” I said appreciatively, mirroring the mark on the other side as she moaned. The dip of her spine became more pronounced as she sagged, the belt straining around her wrists as she went loose and languid, quivering and soft. “Knees,” I demanded, shucking off my clothes.

I watched her ease down onto her knees, feeling an animalistic satisfaction for the vulnerability of the position. “Fuck, you’re so good,” I praised her, noticing her spine straighten in pride with a kick to my own ego. _She wants to please me, to be good for me. She wants to come undone for me._ I came around her front and watched her eyes rake over me appreciatively, smirking as I knelt before her on the bed. She looked up at me from under her lashes, doe-eyed and soft in her submissive headspace. “Eyes up,” I said roughly, groaning in satisfaction as she met my gaze, all her sensitive spots exposed and waiting. I leaned down and kissed her hard enough to bruise, tugging her bottom lip in my teeth and sliding my hand around her throat. She squealed in surprise as I brought my hand down on the exposed underside of her arm, much more gently than I was capable of. “Open your mouth,” I growled against her lips, wanting to sink my teeth into her as she did so immediately, her pale pink tongue offered up obediently.

“Fuck, Arianna.” I watched her eyes tear as I pushed three fingers into her mouth, rock hard at the little choking sound she made as I pulled my hand away. “Good girl,” I hissed, reaching down and gripping her breast in my hand. “Good fucking girl.”

She blinked through the tears, heaving in a breath. Her eyes drifted down to my cock, her lips parted and her chest rising and falling rapidly. “Please,” she whimpered, her hands twitching as she fought the urge to put her arms down. “Please, Hap, can I?”

I wanted to explode, watching her beg for my dick with her mascara smeared and her body quivering. I groaned as I stroked myself over her face, nearly bursting when she opened her mouth eagerly. “Hands down,” I grunted, impatiently pulling her arms forward over her head and dropping her trembling hands back into her lap. “Open your mouth.”

I lost track of time, with my cock in her hot little mouth and her saliva-slick fingers wrapped around me. She looked so fucking beautiful, her expression blissful and her eyes greedy on mine, drinking in my every grunt and moan. I was ready to sink my teeth into the pretty, unblemished skin of her neck by the time I scooped her up under the arms, ripping off her jeans and throwing her down on my bed. I slammed myself into her, my entire body coiled tight as she let out a long, undulating moan, going rigid as I bottomed out inside her. And then everything in her softened at once, and she went limp, all slick, soft wanting below me, willing and eager. “Hap,” she breathed, her eyes unfocused and hazy on my face as I slid my hands everywhere, gripping and slapping and squeezing. “Yes,” she sighed simply.

I reached up to untie her wrists, near-mad with the need to feel those soft little hands on my skin. “Touch me,” I growled, gripping her hand and placing it on my shoulder. “Damn it, Arianna, now.”

She cried out as I snapped my hips, digging her nails into my skin as I groaned in satisfaction. “Hap, _yes,”_ she moaned, rolling her hips up to meet mine as my pace became frenzied. “Fuck, you’re so rough.”

I loved to hear her curse, to see the way I’d slipped beneath her sweet exterior and bled my influence into her. “You fucking love it, don’t you, angel?”

She whimpered, her nails sharp in my skin as her eyes rolled back, her back bowing as her orgasm gripped her. “Yes!” She cried out, going rigid as I sunk my teeth into the soft skin of her neck. “God, Hap, _yes!”_

I could vaguely hear myself let out a roar as I reached my own release, slamming into her hard enough to bruise the delicate juncture of her thighs. She let out something close to a sob, her legs around my hips and my face buried in her hair. “Fuck,” I groaned, gripping her waist so tight I knew I’d see my fingertips there later.

She was whimpering through the aftershocks, her fingers curled around my shoulders and her breath fluttering through her flushed chest. On impulse, I bit down on her trapezius muscle as she cried out, locking up as I greedily sucked at her soft flesh, my teeth and tongue working until I’d left a deep purple mark on her skin, half as big as my palm. “There,” I murmured, pressing my fingers over the mark as she jerked involuntarily, moaning. “A big, bad mark for a very good girl.”

* * *

The exchange was always the hardest part. It was the coming down to reality, the reminder that this was just a transaction to her, a job, a form of income. The fact that the whole fucking thing had been my idea didn't help at all.

She'd told me back in February, the day after I'd suggested the idea, that she didn't want to see the cash. "I'll feel like a hooker," she confessed, grimacing at the thought. "I want part of the contract to stipulate a no-contact payment."

The contract was her idea, her little business school brain whirring as she fought to protect herself from feeling like a sex worker. It was a verbal exchange she insisted on having with any new client before they engaged in sex acts, a mutual coming to terms before anything happened between them. She demanded a sit-down beforehand, a meeting to determine boundaries, preferences, do's and dont's. She listened to their requests and bartered her own terms- no extreme pain, no talking about their sessions to anyone, no exchanging payment by hand. She requested a drop-off situation instead- a discreet slipping of the cash when she wasn't looking, or a pick-up location for the payment, to separate the sex from the income. "It's the only way I'll be able to do this," she'd explained. "I need to feel like this is just because I want to do it. I need it to be just sex."

In the development of this new aspect of her job, I'd stepped into an advisory sort of role for her, since it had been my idea initially. She talked to me about concerns, questions, problems, and I made sure she felt safe during her sessions. It had hit me last week that I was essentially her pimp, and the thought was bitterly hilarious to me. She told me whenever she was with a client, and how long she expected to be there, as a sort of safeguard in case of emergency. For whatever reason- maybe because of how we'd started out, or maybe because I was the scariest guy she could think of- she trusted me, with her safety and her discretion. And I would do it for her, if only to have her to myself for an hour or two whenever I could, naked and innocent and screaming for me.

While Arianna was in the shower, I shoved an envelope full of cash to the bottom of her purse, pausing as my hand brushed something cold. I turned over my palm, scooping the item up and looking at it in the light. It was a ring, silver and tarnished and familiar.

I scowled as I imagined him giving this to her, wondering if she'd smiled as he'd pressed it into her palm. "Prick."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Comments🗨 and kudos❤ are very much appreciated!


	4. A Little Bit Softer, Now

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ree hides herself in a fantasy world, just for a little while.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 🎧👇song of the chapter👇🎧
> 
> (Ree and Chibs, to each other)
> 
> _"The world was on fire,  
>  and no one could save me but you.  
>  It's strange what desire  
>  will make foolish people do.  
>  I never dreamed that I'd meet somebody like you.  
>  And I never dreamed that I'd lose somebody like you._
> 
> _No, I don't wanna fall in love.  
>  (this world is only gonna break your heart)  
>  No, I don't wanna fall in love  
>  (this world is only gonna break your heart)  
>  with you; with you.  
>  (This world is only gonna break your heart)_
> 
> _What a wicked game you play,  
>  to make me feel this way.  
>  What a wicked thing to do,  
>  to let me dream of you.  
>  What a wicked thing to say-  
>  you never felt this way.  
>  What a wicked thing to do,  
>  to make me dream of you."_
> 
> \- "Wicked Game", by Chris Isaak

***Charming, California***

Saturday, April 12th, 2008 (8:34 PM)

**_[Chibs]_ **

Ree knocked on my front door the same way she always did, four quick, short raps that never failed to capture my attention. I'd only been home about an hour, and I'd just sat down at my dining room table with a beer and my bills, hoping to go through them before she arrived. Abandoning all other thoughts, I pulled off my reading glasses and rose to open the door.

She smiled at me as I swung the door open wide, wearing a sweet pale pink summer dress and little white heels that were already driving me to distraction. "Hi," she said sweetly, still always so shy in the beginning. "You look nice," she added, her cheeks faintly flushed.

I glanced down at my faded old jeans and soft black sweater, raising an eyebrow teasingly. "I'm not exactly dressed up, love."

She grinned sheepishly as I gestured her inside, closing and locking the door behind us. "You still look handsome," she insisted, setting her purse on my couch. "It's nice to see you out of leather."

I leaned a shoulder against the doorframe, grinning. "Do you not like my leather get-ups, then?" I teased.

I loved to watch her skin flush, to see those high cheekbones tinge pink behind the deep, dark waves of her hair. "You know that I do," she said softly, and I felt my heart start to skip in my chest.

I lived for the nights I had her here. I could get laid anytime at the clubhouse- there were always sweet butts and Crow Eaters around, willing women who were more than eager to tumble into my bed- but that wasn't what I craved from Ree. There was a gentleness, an innocence to her, that women in our circles had lost a long time ago. She was sweet to her core, giving and warm and open. Being with her was the closest I'd come to letting myself feel something for anyone since Fiona.

It was only our fourth appointment together. Every time she came to my house felt like a first date all over again, complete with the nerves I could see clear as day in her eyes and the shy little mannerisms she expressed from behind that curtain of rich, coffee-colored hair. She was timid around me, nervous and even skittish, in a way that was noticeably different to her demeanor around the others.

I had a pretty good idea of who else she was sleeping with. Happy had come to a handful of us back in February, propositioning us with the arrangement he and the little brunette had come up with. We'd all been shocked to hear it, but I could tell I wasn't the only one at that bar who had been interested. I knew our Tacoma brother had been the first to entice Ree into his bed, and I was positive it hadn't been the last time. I was fairly certain that Kip and Juicy Boy had both paid for the pleasure of her company at least once. And if Tiggy hadn't yet, I knew it wouldn't be long before he caved as well. For now, Hap and I were the ones who seemed unable to resist. And I could tell by her interactions with us that for some reason, I, out of all my brothers, was the one who made her nervous.

I stepped closer to her, reaching out to trace the rise of her cheek with my fingertips. "Thank you, love," I said softly, mesmerized by the way she leaned into my touch, those amber eyes fluttering. "You look beautiful, as well."

She peered up at me from beneath those feathery lashes, that shy little innocence shining through her eyes like a beacon and drawing my attention. "I've been thinking about you," she confessed, as my heart started to pound. "I saw you yesterday, in the auto bay. I've been thinking of you ever since."

"You'll give a man an ego talking like that, darlin'." She was near trembling beneath my feather-light touch, as high strung as a racehorse. "Do I make you nervous, love?" I murmured.

She nodded faintly, her cheeks reddening. "Yes," she said softly, looking at me in quick, stolen glances.

"Why is that?" I questioned, curving my hand around her cheek and gently tugging her closer. "I'm not so scary, little deer."

She swallowed, her hands finding their way lightly to my chest. "You're a different kind of scary," she confessed quietly, those vivid eyes dancing over my face. "Observant, and thoughtful. There's vulnerability that comes with being this gentle with someone. A woman could lose herself in something that sweet, if she's not careful."

Her words sent heat burning through my chest, spreading out and filling me with a nearly unbearable yearning. "Are you afraid of losing yourself in me, Ree?"

She was quiet for a moment, but I could see her thoughts flashing through those big eyes. "I can't afford to," she said at last. "You're not mine, Filip, not after the sun comes up."

I slid my hand down to her neck, curling my fingers around the nape and tugging her so we were chest to chest. "The sun won't be up for hours," I whispered. "We have all night, little deer." My fingers slipped then, and she gasped, as sensitive as if I'd shocked her. Curious, I pressed gently at the base of her neck, watching her teeth sink into that full bottom lip and her gaze go surprisingly hazy. "What have we here, hmmm?" I slipped my fingers beneath the neckline of her dress, pulling it aside to reveal a massive purple mark, dark as night and marring the delicacy of her smooth skin.

She studied me apprehensively as I raised my eyebrows, tracing the bruise with my fingertips. "You've been busy," I remarked, watching her cheeks flush with an odd sort of sensation filling my chest. "You must've been quite a good little girl to earn this, hmmm?"

She studied me carefully, trying to decipher my reaction. "I try to be good," she said at last. "It's what you want, isn't it?"

I smiled in spite of myself. "Clever, little deer." I watched her gaze darken and dilate as I pressed my fingertips into the tender mark, earning a wiggle of discomfort- because she wanted me to stop or wanted me to press harder, I didn't know. She dropped her head back as I brushed my lips across one of those high cheekbones, her eyes fluttering closed. "Come with me," I whispered, watching her nod dazedly. "I have only so many hours before sunrise. Let's put them to good use."

* * *

"Oh, _Filip."_

The way she said my name was going to drive me crazy, one of these days.

It was always so soft and unguarded, full of emotion that spilled over in the purest show of expression, nearly pushing me to the brink. She looked glorious, spread languid and loose in my bed with her dark hair like a halo 'round her head.

She sighed again, those vivid amber eyes fluttering shut as her fingers wove through my hair, encouraging and pleading at once. She arched her back, bowing her hips up and bringing herself closer to me, offering and begging together as my tongue brushed her skin again.

She moaned, a soft little sound that was as intoxicating as the taste of her, wet and warm beneath my lips. "Sweet little deer," I murmured against her skin, as she wiggled and whimpered impatiently. "Sensitive as a new bride."

She sighed again, tugging on my hair and running her fingertips across my shoulder. "It's you," she confessed softly, her hips undulating against my ministrations. "You know every sensitive spot on my body."

I watched her hips snap up and her full mouth drop open as I slipped my finger inside of her, earning another moan. As I curled it just so, she nearly sobbed. "Like right here, love?" She nodded frantically, and I pressed my smile to the warm, wet heat of her, following her lead as she found her rhythm.

"Oh God, yes, Filip, _yes."_ She was near frenzied, her hips rotating in sexy circles as she chased her high. I stroked my tongue over her sweetness, almost lazily, and she cried out suddenly, going rigid. _"Yes!"_

"Pretty little deer," I praised her, as she went starry-eyed and taut, tugging on my hair in a way that made me nearly mad. "Such a gorgeous girl, coming for me. God, Ree, yes."

She shuddered herself languid, her breath panting and her skin warm to the touch. She looked down at me with the look I'd come to adore- her post-coital look, all hazy eyes and a wildness that I only saw here, between us. "Come here," she breathed, reaching down to take my face in her hands.

When I kissed her, it was like everything slowed, as if time stopped rushing by me in a blur and I could suddenly reach out and grab pieces of it, keep them to myself and store them away for another day. She brushed her tongue over mine, electricity dancing on my skin as I pulled myself up over her, needing to feel her beneath me. She wrapped her arms around me, letting out appreciative little noises that stirred me to life and had me groaning as the length of me brushed against her.

"Yes," she whispered, angling her hips so that I fit against her, as perfect as if fate had intended it. "Please, Filip. I need you. Please."

"Christ, little deer. You'll be the death of me." I had to watch her face as I slid slowly inside of her, wishing I could record every minute change in her expression and every incremental noise of her moan. "You're so damn beautiful," I swore.

She held the back of my head in her hands, her face close to my own and her gaze unwavering on mine. "Oh, God, Filip, yes. Right there."

I drew back and rocked my hips forward again, and a gorgeous little cry slipped from her lips. "Right here, love?" I did it again, and she cried out, louder. "Mmmm, I think we found a new spot, little deer."

She was panting, pushing her hips up to meet mine with every thrust. "Don't stop," she begged, breathless. "I want to come."

I started moving faster, unable to help myself. "Do you?" I murmured, as she nodded wildly. "Again?" She whimpered pitifully, and I grinned, bending my head to kiss her. "You've been such a good girl, sweet. I think you've earned it." Purposefully, I angled my hips just so and started snapping them forward, creating a rhythm as her mouth dropped open and her back bowed. "Come for me, Ree. Let me see those pretty little eyes full of stars."

She looked at me without restrictions or guards, those amber eyes wide and locked on mine as her breath quickened. "Oh God," she burst out, her fingers tangled in my hair. It was nearly a sob, and she pressed her forehead to mine. "Jesus, Filip, yes, yes, yes, I'm going to-"

I pressed my lips to hers as a moan worked itself free of her throat, swirling my tongue around hers and quickening my pace as I fell down the rabbit hole after her. Stars floated behind my eyes as I groaned, her teeth nipping at my bottom lip as I thrust into her, mad with my release.

She was kissing me all over, pressing little lightning quick pecks to my cheeks, the corners of my mouth, my throat. I needed more, so I curved my hand around her cheek and brought her lips back to mine, loving the way she tasted beneath me, soft and yielding and sweet. "Darling girl," I murmured in praise, her little hands warm on my shoulders. "Thank you, love."

She sighed contentedly, pressing a warm kiss to my neck and wrapping her arms around me tight. "No," she said softly. "No thank yous. Not between us."

Because the sentiment behind the simple statement scared me and made my heart swell, all at once, I buried my face in her neck, cuddling her up close. "Alright."

* * *

I rolled onto my side, naked beneath the sheets with a gloriously nude Ree beside me. "This suits you."

She smiled, half-bashful as I stroked my ring, hanging on a chain around her neck. "I like having it," she admitted, looking up at me shyly. "It's nice to have a piece of you with me."

I stroked the dark waves out of her eyes, admiring the flush on her cheeks as she curled up next to me. “I’m glad to have given it to you, then.” I watched the wall come up behind her eyes, just a bit, and even though I knew it was foolish, and not at all what I should be feeling, I wanted to knock it down more than I wanted anything. “It’s a comfort to me, to know that you want a piece of me held close when I’m not there.”

She softened then, and even though I could read the hesitation in her eyes clear as day, it seemed for the moment she was content not to fight it. “You bring me comfort,” she whispered. “I know this arrangement of ours- my job- it isn’t exactly a normal, healthy one-”

“Normal is subjective,” I interrupted quietly. “I’ve never been much for it.”

She smiled then. “But I feel comforted, when I’m with you. Or a piece of you.” She clutched my ring fondly, swaying it on the thin silver chain. “I know I shouldn’t say so. . .” She hesitated, looking at me with that age-old shyness in her eyes again.

“Go on, love. You can speak freely with me.”

She reached up then, surprising me by brushing her fingertips over my jaw. “My appointments-” she grimaced at the word, as if she didn’t much care for it- “they’re all different. People want different things- human nature, I suppose. We all crave something we’re lacking. But the nights I spend with you? They’re the most normal, natural ones I have.” She looked up at me, her eyes soft as I stroked a hand over her bare hip. “They don’t feel like a job.”

I couldn’t resist kissing her then, feeling her melt and cling to me with something that felt too much like desperation. I scooped her close, pressing her tight to me as she wrapped her arms around my neck. “We’ve still plenty of hours before daylight,” I whispered against her lips. “Spend them here with me. Where it’s natural.”

She rolled herself on top of me then, kissing me and kissing me until I felt myself grow hard again. “Yes,” she murmured, her lips hot on mine and her hands sliding down my torso, seeking me out and pulling a groan from my lips. “I’ll stay. Where it’s natural.”

* * *

When I awoke, around five in the morning, Ree wasn’t beside me, curled up in the crook of my arm like she’d been since midnight, when our fourth and final round had finally sated us both. I blinked in the darkness, relaxing a bit once I heard my shower running. I heaved myself to my feet, hunting up a pair of sweats and pulling them on as I crossed to the bathroom door.

I could see her there, through the frosted glass wall of my shower, her back to me and her dark hair wet and sleek over her shoulders. She was humming softly, something old and almost-forgotten in my memory. I smiled when I realized what it was- _Lovely Day,_ by Bill Withers.

“Good morning, love.” I was sorry to see I’d made her jump, but the answering smile she tossed me over her shoulder made me glad I’d made my presence known.

“Filip. Good morning.” She covered her chest as she turned to smile more fully at me, and the shy little maneuver made me grin.

“I’ve seen plenty of those last night, little deer.” She grinned sheepishly, and I stepped up to the glass wall, leaning against it and studying her. “You’re very pretty in the mornings, d’you know that?”

She blushed, turning her face towards the water’s spray. “I am not,” she muttered, dipping her face beneath the stream.

“That’d be my place to say, wouldn’t it?” Almost without thinking, I shucked off my sweatpants, stepping into the shower after her and wrapping my arms around her waist, smiling into her hair as she jumped. “And I say you’re pretty in the mornings, as pretty as those rainbow flowers you have growing up your front walk.”

She turned her head, smiling at me over her shoulder as I pressed a kiss to her cheek, the scratch of my stubble making her laugh. “Pansies,” she corrected me. “They’re pansies.”

“Rude name for a flower,” I murmured against her ear, catching the lobe between my teeth as she inhaled sharply. “But a good comparison to your pretty face.”

She turned in my arms, wrapping hers around my neck and kissing me, something long and leisurely that turned sensual beneath the rivulets of steamy water. “If you keep complimenting me, I’ll never want to leave,” she murmured softly, kissing me in between words. “And you’ve got work to get to.”

Reluctantly, I dropped a kiss on the tip of her nose as she brushed my wet hair out of my eyes, pushing it back almost lovingly. “And you’ve a younger brother to get home to.”

She nodded, her eyes downcast. “Yes. I do.”

Because I hated to see that shield drop back into place, I crooked a finger under her chin and brought her lips back up to mine, kissing her slow and sweet. “I’d like to see you again,” I said softly, her lips still brushing mine. She smiled then, and I was glad I’d risked the truth of it. “When can I have you back here with me?”

She nuzzled against me then, cocooned in our secret place, where we could both pretend for a little while. “Thursday,” she whispered back, her body soft and slick against mine. “Tony has football practice, and a team dinner afterwards. I can stay until ten.”

I ran my hands over her shoulders, down her waist and over the sweet curve of her hips. “Thursday it is, then, little deer.”

* * *

I got dressed while she finished prepping herself in my bathroom mirror, pulling on jeans and a blue flannel shirt, my kutte thrown over the top of it. While she was busy, I pulled open my nightstand drawer and took out a wad of bills. Like always it was wrapped in a ribbon, pale pink silk this time, and tied neatly in a bow. Woven into one of the loops was a pair of dangling silver earrings, sporting little white flowers all along the delicate chain. Smiling to imagine them hanging from her pretty ears, I tucked the lot of it away in a zipper of her purse, securing it just as she emerged from the bathroom in a cloud of steam.

“You look handsome.” She smiled at me, ever the prepared one in the spare outfit she’d packed in her purse the night before. The burnished orange shade of her knit sweater lit the color in her amber eyes, the tight dark jeans accentuating her curves.

“You look a sight, love.” I brought her close, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “Like a sunbeam at dusk.”

She laughed, wrapping her arms around my waist and grinning up at me. “You say the weirdest things sometimes.” She reached up on her tiptoes, pressing a kiss to my lips. “Sweet, but weird.”

I brushed a hand over her damp hair, pulling her in close. “Weird? It’s you Americans who have no poetry to your words.”

She smiled, pressing her cheek to my chest. “True. I like your poetry, Filip.”

Because it would be almost a week before I would hear my given name on anyone’s lips again, I kissed it from hers, savoring it and tucking it away for my next lonesome moment. “And I like you, little deer. Come on.” Though I dreaded it, and didn’t want it to ever come, it was time for us to part. “I’ll take you home.”

“But I drove here,” she protested, letting me drag her along by the hand as she scooped up her purse.

“I know it, love. I’ll have someone run your car by in a couple hours, if that’s alright with you.” I tucked her beneath my arm as we strode towards the front door, pressed up tight together. “I just want to feel your arms around me for a bit longer.”

She smiled at me as I locked the door behind us, taking my hand as we crossed over to my bike. “Alright,” she agreed. “I wouldn’t mind a bit more time, myself.” She took my spare helmet and snapped it under her chin, following my lead as I swung my leg over my bike. She wrapped her arms around me tight, nuzzling her cheek against my shoulder as we backed out of my driveway.

Along the road back to her house, I reached one of my hands down to press it over both of hers, rubbing warmth and comfort into her chilled fingertips.

I kept it there all the way home, driving along with her body tightly fitted to mine and her heartbeat steady against my back, keeping time as we drove towards the hour of our separation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Kudos❤ and comments🗨 are very much appreciated!


	5. A Bit of Push n' Pull & A Lot of Bark n' Bite

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 🎧👇song of the chapter👇🎧
> 
> (from Tig to Ree)
> 
> _"I heard it all before-  
>  so don't knock down my door.  
>  I'm a loser, and a user,  
>  so I don't need no accuser  
>  to try and slag me down,  
>  because I know you're right._
> 
> _So go do what you like-  
>  make sure you do it wise.  
>  You may find out that your self-doubt  
>  means nothing was ever there;  
>  you can't go forcing something  
>  if it's just not right._
> 
> _No time to search the world around_  
>  _'cause you know where I'll be found,_  
>  _when I come around."_
> 
> \- "When I Come Around", by Green Day

***Charming, California***

Tuesday, April 15th, 2008 (11:22 AM)

**_[Tig]_ **

"I'm telling you, man. It's totally worth it."

The Prospect's voice carried over to me at the end of the clubhouse bar, his hands busy polishing glasses as he shot me a knowing look.

"And I'm telling you," I snapped, "for the third time, that I'm not interested."

Juice raised his eyebrows, lifting his beer to his lips. "Why not? She's _hot._ And Half-Sack is right. Totally worth it."

"Why don't you just worry about your own dicks, okay, kiddies?" I threw back the last of my beer and slammed the empty bottle down on the bar, getting up from my stool. "Mine is just fine with the attention it already gets."

Half-Sack raised one brow, looking skeptical. "Your loss. And I do mean loss. She’s a firecracker."

Annoyed with the topic, I ignored Juice's fervent nod and strode outside, needing to escape the Get Laid Brigade for a little while. I crossed the lot to my bike, pulling on my helmet and deciding I might as well go hunt up some lunch.

I pulled out of the TM lot feeling way too pissed for 11 AM on a Tuesday. I was getting really fucking tired of my brothers trying to convince me to sleep with Ree. Ever since Happy had told us about the idea, I'd had to hear about how amazing she was, and be constantly reminded that I was missing out. Even though he'd been pretty clear that discussing their little fuck sessions in public was a definite no-no. I made a mental note to let him know that our youngest knuckleheads needed a reminder about that rule.

I drove aimlessly into town, letting my stomach lead me as I thought about the brunette's newest side business. I didn't dislike Ree. She did her job, she didn't complain or bitch, and she was always nice without being a tight ass about it. I liked her as much as I liked any other female I wasn't currently boning.

But there was something just different enough about her to seriously annoy me. I didn't think she thought she was better than us, but there was an air of caution around her when she was at the clubhouse that I thought spoke volumes about her feelings. She was always a little bit too guarded, as if she didn't trust us with her true self, which really chapped my ass. She’d known us for twelve years at this point, since she was a skinny little high school freshman, and I thought by now she'd have dropped that protective shell. But apparently, that wasn't going to happen any time soon.

At least, she hadn't dropped it around Clay, or Bobby, and she sure as Hell hadn't dropped it with me. She'd always been more at ease around Opie and Jax, having known them the longest, and she dealt with those two numbskulls back at the bar with a good-natured kind of patience. I’d seen her more at ease around Hap than any woman I'd ever known, and I knew that she even turned to him for help with her hustle. Chibs was way too soft around her, enough that it was beginning to worry me, especially when she responded in kind.

But me? She acted half-scared of me, as if she was afraid I'd jump out and bite her if she stayed around me long enough. _What the Hell is so wrong with me?_ I thought bitterly. _Hap's a fucking psycho, and she's la-di-da dandy around him._

Our entire back-and-forth irritated me to no end, and I often wanted to snap at her to relax, and bark that I wasn't going to rip her throat out. But of course, doing so would only further confirm her theories about me. So I bit my damn tongue and avoided her as much as I could, which wasn't as often as I would like.

I came out of my inner monologue to realize I'd pulled up at a burger joint off the main drag, riding up and parking near the order window. I ordered lunch in a fog, my mind still on the annoying brunette.

Almost as if I'd daydreamed her into being, I spun around to see Ree herself perched at one of the round fiberglass tables, a French fry raised halfway to her lips and her eyes wide with shock. "Tig," she blurted, looking up at me as I stared. "Hi. I didn't expect to see you here."

I frowned, oddly annoyed to see her perched on the plastic bench in a bright red tank top and little denim shorts. "Why would you?" I retorted, shoving my sunglasses into the pocket of my kutte.

She swallowed nervously, dropping her fry and brushing her hands on a napkin. "Right. Fair enough. Uhm. . ." She was obviously at a loss, searching desperately for something to say. "We got the shipment of your whiskey today," she said at last. "I put the bottles in your dorm."

I wanted to both snap something sarcastic at her and bark at her to quit acting so nervous around me. "Well, Christmas must be early this year, kid,” I finally decided on. “Lucky me.”

She blushed, looking down at her half-finished tray of food. “Right,” she said quietly. “Well. . .” She rose from the table, picking up her tray. “It was good talking to you,” she said, her eyes downcast as she slung her purse across her torso. “I’ll see you around.”

I frowned, irritated for reasons I couldn’t explain. “Not hungry?” I questioned, gesturing at her uneaten food.

She shook her head, taking a step towards the trash can on the side of the building, by the parking lot. “Not really,” she said softly. “Bye, Tig.”

I watched her brush by me with a weird feeling in my chest, like a sick combination of shame and agitation. Cursing to myself, I started off after her, annoyed. “Ree!” I called.

She set her tray on top of the trash can, turning to look at me with resignation in her eyes. “Yeah?” she asked, crossing her arms over her chest.

I huffed. “What’s your problem?” I demanded, pulling out my sunglasses to have something to do with my hands.

She looked shocked, her mouth dropping open. “What?” she said disbelievingly. “My problem?”

“You heard me,” I snapped. “Why are you always so weird around me?”

She blinked slowly, as if unsure if I was messing with her or not. “You’re joking, right?” she said quietly. _"You’re_ the one who’s always so weird with _me.”_

“Oh, come off it, princess.” I rolled my eyes impatiently. “Every time I’m around you act like I’m going to rip your head off.”

She gave me a level glare. “Because you’re just so fuzzy and welcoming that I should give you a big hug instead?”

“It wouldn’t kill you to be civil,” I retorted. “And I’ve never been anything but nice to you.”

She raised her eyebrows. “You and I have different definitions of nice, then.”

“Jesus Christ.” I rubbed a hand over my face, feeling my anger rising. “What do you want from me, kid? You want me to kiss your ass and give you a big hug and a smile every time I see you?”

She scowled at me, reaching into her purse to pull out a pair of cherry red sunglasses. “Just forget it. I don’t have time for this.”

She started to turn away, and I laughed disbelievingly. “Just like I thought,” I called after her. “You can't even stand to be around me. Just too damn good for me, is that it?”

She halted in her tracks, and for a moment I felt smug, sure I’d successfully called her out. Then she whirled around, marching up to me and getting up in my face, her voice low and furious. “There’s a very small number of people in this world I think I’m genuinely better than, and you have _never_ been on that list. It’s not my fault you feel the need to bark and snarl at anyone not in your little inner circle. _You_ are the one constantly pushing _me_ away, Tig, not the other way around. Maybe I’d be more at ease around you if you’d drop the ‘scary biker’ routine.”

I felt frozen in place for a moment, as if she’d slapped me. She’d started to turn away when I grabbed her wrist. “You know nothing about me,” I retorted, feeling fury crawl through my veins. “You’ve known me a dozen years now, and you still don’t know shit about who I am.”

She looked coolly down at my fingers around her wrist, slowly twisting her arm out of grasp. “Maybe I would if you’d let me.”

I scowled. “So this entire little stand-off is my fault? It isn’t my shortcoming that keeps us from being civil, kid. It’s your little frightened lamb routine, the way you act like I’m going to haul off and smack you around for no reason.” When she was silent, I narrowed my eyes. “You treat me like some kind of psycho, and I’ve given you no reason to. You care too much about what other people say about me, instead of trusting your gut.”

Her eyes darkened, a furious look I’d never seen on her before. “If I listened for half a second to what other people said, I wouldn’t spend two seconds alone with Happy Lowman.”

It was the exact wrong thing to say to me, in that moment. “Exactly my point,” I snarled. “You’ll let Hap do whatever twisted shit he wants to you, but you can’t say two words to me without shaking like a leaf.”

To my surprise, she stepped up into my face, her eyes blazing. “Happy and I are none of your business. And _anything_ we do, _ever,_ is discussed beforehand, and only if I agree. And for your information? Happy treats me with a damn sight more respect than you ever have.”

“Get him a fucking medal,” I said sarcastically. “He’s a courteous deviant.”

“Oh, fuck off!” I blinked, surprised to have pushed her to cursing. “I’m not nervous around him because he doesn’t _try_ to make me feel that way!”

I frowned, feeling dangerously close to losing it. “You think I do?”

“I know you do!” She shoved her hair back impatiently, the dark waves swinging in her agitation. “You like making me think you’re some wild-eyed, crazy biker that I should be afraid of! You’ve been doing it since I was a kid! And now you want to act like it’s _my_ fault that I’m not comfortable around you? You can just go fu-” She cut herself off, turning away from me and storming towards her Cadillac. “I’m leaving,” she called back instead. “Thanks for the chat, Tig. Have a nice day.” Her voice dripped with venom, her movements jerky and angry as she yanked open her car door and slid behind the wheel.

I realized belatedly that my chest was heaving, and I could feel my blood, burning through my veins and making me hot inside my leather kutte. I cursed under my breath as I heard my order being called at the pickup window, stomping over and snatching the bag up as Ree’s Caddy roared out of the parking lot. I was wildly agitated, close to hitting something- or someone- and no longer the least bit hungry. Sighing impatiently, I stomped over to my bike, passing a homeless woman perched on a dirty old blanket on the sidewalk. “Here,” I snapped, tossing my uneaten burger and fries at her.

She caught the bag surprisingly easily. “Thank you, sir,” she said in a scratchy voice. “God bless you.”

I snorted, jogging to my bike and mumbling to myself. “The hell He did,” I grumbled. “Fucking cursed me, more like.”

* * *

“I can’t believe you let her run you off your lunch.” Happy was looking at me in amusement, a beer in his hand and his grin knowing. “She’s like the opposite of confrontational.”

I snorted, throwing back my whiskey with a glare. “Not with me, she ain’t.”

He grinned into his glass, and I knew he was feeling smug. “I thought you said she’s scared of you.”

I gestured to the Prospect to refill my glass, glaring at the amber liquid and wishing it didn’t look just like Ree’s eyes. “She was,” I grumbled. “Until today. That was the problem. Acting like I’m gonna bite her head off or something, and when I called her on it, she got all righteous on me. Tells me it’s all my fault, and that she wouldn’t be afraid if I didn’t give her reason to be.”

Happy nodded for another beer, looking at me with a shrug. “She’s right,” he said simply, as I glared. “You always get all snappy and hard around her.”

“Hey, I’m not the one doing God knows what to her in your twisted little sex-periment,” I snapped. “And she’s just fucking fine and dandy around you.”

He smirked. “She trusts me, man. That’s the difference. And I’m just myself around her, the same way I am with you guys.”

“Keep your dick away from me,” I warned. “I don’t want to be grouped in with her in your mind.”

His grin turned almost evil. “She hasn’t asked for that yet,” he said half-seriously, as I grimaced. “But I’m serious. You put on this hardass front around her and basically _try_ to scare her, then wonder why she’s so nervous around you. What do you expect?”

I glared down at my drink. “I’m not putting on any act,” I snapped. “I’ve always been myself, and then she gets all skittish and weird around me. So I get pissed off and it just gets worse.”

“Maybe,” Half-Sack said significantly, passing Hap another beer, “it’s both of your faults. You scared her at first, and you got offended that she was scared, and instead of her trying to put you at ease or vice versa, you both just accepted the fact that you scared her.”

Happy grinned over at me, a dark gleam in his eye. “I think the Prospect just solved your little problem,” he said with a chuckle.

“He didn’t solve anything,” I snapped.

“But he did lay it out for you,” Hap pointed out. “So now you can fix it.”

“How?” I demanded. “She told me to fuck off, and then she _almost_ told me to go fuck myself. How do I suddenly make her okay with me now?”

Hap’s face went deadly serious, his beer hitting the bartop with a sharp rap. “She did what?” he said dangerously.

I frowned. “Yeah. I mean, she stopped herself there at the end, but it almost slipped out. Why?”

His eyes darkened over, and he looked legitimately scary in that moment, the face I imagined his victims might have caught a glimpse of in their final moments. “That’s not her,” he said in his deep rasp, nearly a growl now in his anger. “Arianna doesn’t cuss, and she doesn’t lose her temper.”

I shrugged. “So she let an F-bomb slip. What’s the big deal?”

He was suddenly on his feet, and I turned to face him warily. “Because that’s not the girl I know,” he growled, shoving his barstool in with his foot. “That’s not who I-” He cut himself off as Half-Sack looked at me, his eyebrows raised. “That’s not her,” he repeated, and the gravity with which he spoke gave me a distinct feeling that Ree being her sweet and innocent self was a big part of his attraction- or whatever he wanted to call it- to her.

“It was just a moment of tension,” Half-Sack interjected, trying to calm Hap down. “I’m sure Arianna-”

 _“Ree.”_ Happy’s vicious growl had even me jumping to my feet, hands up in a peacemaking gesture as the Tacoma Killer glared at Kip with rage in his eyes. “You fucking call her _Ree.”_

“Whoa, whoa. Easy, Hap.” I looked warily between them, unsure what exactly was going on, but knowing enough to guess. She was Hap’s first; whatever odd arrangement/business they were now in- essentially together, as he was basically acting as her pimp- she was _his._ The fact was clear in that moment, from the fire in his eyes and his ready-to-brawl stance as he glared at the Prospect.

When I really thought about it, I’d never heard anyone else call her Arianna- only Hap. And I knew, from knowing her old man back in the day, that only her mother had ever used her full name. Her older brothers, the motley crew of six massive guys who I’d met when they’d flown in for the funeral, had all called her Ari, if I remembered right. Her father had always called her Ree-Tee- a silly play on her full name, Arianna Teresa- and I’d heard Tony use that moniker occasionally, usually to tease her. But I’d never heard anyone but her mother call her Arianna.

Until Hap, that is. It was no wonder he was protective of the name. It was a symbolism- a mark, a warning sign to others that at the end of the day, no matter who she slept with, he had staked a claim on her. And in our world, those claims meant a lot.

“I’m sorry.” Half-Sack held his hands up in a peacemaking gesture, looking scared at Hap’s wild-eyed gaze. “It was just a slip. It won’t happen again.”

“Good.” I’d thought it was over, until Hap suddenly lunged over the bar and slammed his fist into Kip’s jaw, knocking him back several feet.

“Jesus, dude.” I glared at Hap as my glass went flying, spilling whiskey everywhere. “Seriously?”

But he ignored me, rounding the bar to join Kip behind the counter as the young guy staggered, blood spilling over his chin. “Do you call her that when you’re alone?” he demanded, advancing on the Prospect until his back was against the bar. “Do you?”

Kip shook his head, frantic. “No, man, I swear,” he pleaded. “I call her Ree, honestly. It was just a slip-up.”

Hap looked at him a moment, so still that we were all holding our breath. Then, so fast I almost missed it, he cocked back and smashed his fist into Kip’s eye, so hard I knew it would be black within the next quarter hour. 

“For fuck’s sake, Hap,” I exclaimed. “She’s just some girl.”

He ignored me, looking down at where Kip was crumpled on the floor, clutching his face. “That’s for running your fucking mouth about her,” he informed the young Prospect. “You were told to keep your mouth shut about what goes on in private with her. Open your big mouth again and I’ll cut your fucking tongue out so you _can’t_ tell anyone. Got it?”

He must have nodded, because Hap turned on his heel and stormed out of the clubhouse, ignoring me and striding over to his bike.

I sighed, feeling tired down to my bones. Scuffles happened in the club, and we handled internal matters between ourselves. I didn’t feel great, exactly, that Kip had gotten his face bashed in because I’d told Hap about his bragging, but he’d been warned. Talking about his sessions with Ree was against the rules. Whether they were arbitrary or stupid or not, you didn’t break a promise to a brother. And Kip had promised Hap he wouldn’t talk about Ree in public. Now, he’d paid the consequences. The matter was settled.

I scooped my glass up off the floor, thankfully unbroken but woefully empty. I leaned over the bar, looking down at Kip as he staggered to his feet, swiping at his busted lip. “Lesson learned, huh, kid?”

He clutched his eye, already swelling up and bright red. “Yeah,” he rasped out, wincing and feeling for a knot on his head where he’d smacked the bar on the way down. “Lesson learned.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Kudos❤ and comments🗨 are very much appreciated!


	6. Here Comes the Son

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Happy makes a statement, and Ree discovers Tig's soft side.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 🎧👇song of the chapter👇🎧
> 
> (from Julian to Ree)
> 
> _You and me against the world,  
>  like a little boy and girl.  
>  There were monsters beneath our bed,  
>  and we were scared until we taught them all to sing, and then we had a laugh instead._
> 
> _You and me on stormy seas;  
>  it had brought us to our knees.  
>  There were dangers, all around,  
>  and we were frightened by the wind and when it blew, until it blew us to dry ground._
> 
> _Baby, here we are tonight.  
>  The dark will turn into the sunlight.  
>  Don't you know it always does?  
>  It always was;  
>  and it will be alright._
> 
> _You and me among the crowd-  
>  I heard you shout my name out loud.  
>  And there were strangers all around,  
>  and I was lost until the moment when you came and took my hand, and I was found._
> 
> _You and me with no regrets,  
>  and I will try not to forget.  
>  There is nothing we could do  
>  that will ever change the love we have; remember that my aim is true._
> 
> _Baby, here we are tonight.  
>  The dark will turn into the sunlight.  
>  Don't you know it always does?  
>  It always was;  
>  and it will be alright."_
> 
> \- "Monsters", by The Pierces❤

***Charming, California***

Friday, April 18th, 2008 (9:08 AM)

**_[Arianna]_ **

During my shift at the clubhouse on Friday, my cell phone started ringing the moment I'd dunked my hands in the sink, intent on washing the dishes before the boys strolled in on their lunch breaks and trashed my kitchen all to Hell again. "Crap," I muttered, shaking off my hands and looking around for a dish towel.

"Here." Juice strode into the room behind me, plucking my cell from my back pocket. I was about to protest when he flipped it open, pressing the speaker button and holding it out to me.

I smiled gratefully at him, finally locating a towel. "Hello?" I called, drying off my hands.

"Ari. Got a minute?"

I smiled automatically at the familiar voice. "Hey, Zachariah. What's up?"

I listened as my oldest brother, who always spoke in a smooth, assured voice no matter the situation, hesitated. "It's Julian," he said finally.

I felt worry trickle into my heart at the name of my artistic older brother, who was sensitive to the core and had always been troubled. "What's wrong with him?" I questioned.

There was another pause, and my heart plummeted. "He's going through some things," Zachariah finally admitted.

I threw the dish towel aside, reaching out and taking my phone from Juice with a brief, tense smile. I clicked off the speaker function and put it to my ear as Juice gave me a concerned look. "What kinds of things?" I wanted to know.

Zachariah sighed in my ear, and I could hear papers shuffling around in the background as the silence stretched. "He's been frustrated lately,” my elder brother sighed, trying to explain. “He hasn't been painting. He's got some kind of artistic block going on."

I pushed my hair back from my face, feeling stressed. “He hasn't told me,” I said quietly, the hurt registering with me as the words left my lips. “I don’t know why.”

Zachariah’s voice was gentle, and I knew he was thinking about how close I was to Julian, and how I must have been feeling. “He didn’t really tell me either, kid,” he consoled me gently. “I only found out because his agent called me. He wanted to know if I knew why he wasn’t getting his pieces in by the deadlines.”

I looked around me blankly, feeling lost, as Juice hovered nearby with his hands in his pockets, one brow quirked in concern. “I’ll reach out to him,” I said at last. “Maybe he’ll talk to me.”

“Maybe.” Zachariah- who was a dozen years older than me, with a wife and young son of his own- had always treated me more paternally than brotherly, and I could hear the concern in his voice as clearly as I could hear the ever-present protectiveness. “I’m sure he’s okay, Ari. He’s probably just experiencing a block- an artistic dry spell. He’ll get through it.”

I nodded, even though he couldn’t see me. “Probably,” I agreed, because I knew we both wanted it to be true. “I’ll let you know what happens. I’ve got to get back to work, though.”

“Same here. I’ll be waiting for your call. Love you, kid.”

“I love you, too.” I hung up, shoving my phone away and looking at Juice with what felt like a hundred tons of worry on my shoulders.

“You okay, Ree?” He studied me carefully, and I sighed, giving him a tired smile as he reached out to tug lightly on one loose curl, hanging against my cheek.

“I’m fine,” I said lightly. “I just. . . . have a few family issues to take care of.” But in all honesty, I was beginning to feel more than a little worried about my middle brother’s predicament.

Because odd as it may seem, out of all seven of my brothers, Julian is the one I'm closest to. He's five years older than me, the fifth child brought home out of the eight of us kids, and one of only two of us with any significant trauma. He was adopted just a year before myself, at age four, with one other brother, Sebastian, falling in between.

We’ve been close since the moment my parents brought me home from the adoption agency. The story- according to my Mama, who loved telling it- was that four-year-old Julian was the most reserved out of all my brothers by far, and he’d yearned for a quiet baby sister to balance out his wild older brothers even before my parents had discussed my adoption with him. And so more than any of my siblings, he’d been thrilled when Mama had brought little six-month-old me home. It was perfect. I’d been a reportedly quiet, good-natured baby, and he’d been a traumatized, solemn five-year-old, my instant companion and eternal protector. He’s been my closest confidante from the start, from as far back as a time when my conscious memory had yet to exist.

The funny thing is that Julian is the only sibling who looks like he could actually be related to me. We’re both brunettes, with amber eyes, curly hair, and lean, artistic features. We often joke that we must be twins, separated at birth, even though we were born five years apart. I say it in jest, but cosmically speaking? I couldn't be more serious. I know Julian and I were together in another life, tripping around the planet side by side, two halves of the same whole.

And for most of our lives, I’ve honestly thought of him as more of a twin than an older brother. As our brothers love to point out, we’re essentially the same person- we share an identical level-headed personality, the same easy-going temperament and patient way of crafting our thoughts. He’s the only person who seems to understand me fully, one hundred percent, without me even having to speak. Which is the most bizarre thing about our dynamic, because Julian is the one who’s mute.

He came home with Mama and Daddy at age four, with a horrific past history of abuse that had left him physically and mentally scarred. He came to our home completely silent, with what the social worker called selective mutism and a refusal to let anyone touch him. It had taken my mother years of dedication and therapy and behavioral techniques to get him to speak at all, or let us hug him. He’d grown more at ease with physical touch as he’d grown older, and the memories of his abuse had seemed to fade blessedly with age.

But his mutism hadn’t. He’d spoken aloud on only a handful of rare occasions, and really, only ever with three of us- myself, Matthias, and our mother. It was brief every time, just a few words or a simple sentence, and with our mother now gone, he’d severely restricted even those sparse moments of speech.

He hadn’t ever wanted to learn sign language; he’d argued with my mom, several times, furiously scribbling notes to her and explaining that teaching someone who’d chosen _not_ to communicate a _new_ way to do so was defeating the purpose. So instead, he spoke in gestures and shrugs, a variety of nods and little hand signals that we’d all learned to decipher over the years.

The rest of my siblings communicated with him primarily through letters, e-mails, and text messages, and sometimes he called me or Tony just to listen to us talk. His true talent and happiness- painting- paid the bills for him, so he didn’t have to speak in his day-to-day life if he didn’t want to. Over the years, we had all tried different ways to encourage him to talk, but he seemed content to go through life without a voice, happy enough to let people assume what they wanted.

"Why do you let them treat you like that?" I demanded once at a restaurant, when a busboy had muttered something that sounded suspiciously like 'weirdo' after seeing Julian and I communicating with his own patented version of 'sign language.' "Why don't you tell them you're not weird?"

 _Because,_ he'd scribbled back on a napkin, pushing it across the table to me, _I only care about the opinions of people who care about me in return._

I blinked back to the present to see Juice giving me a worried look, his gaze sweeping over me carefully. “Do you need to cut out of here early?” he asked. “I can get the Prospect to finish up your shift.”

I shook my head. “It’s alright. I’ll just text my brother and tell him to get back to me after work.” Belatedly, I looked up and noticed a big, purple bruise spread across his right eye, dark and painful-looking. I gasped and stepped forward, reaching for his arm. “Juice!” I fretted, dismayed. “What happened to your eye?”

He looked ashamed for some reason, backing away hastily. “Nothing, Ree. Don’t worry about it.”

"But it's black!" I followed his retreat and laid my fingertips gingerly over his cheek, feeling concern for the youngest patched member. We'd had only two appointments together, but already I felt a fondness and protectiveness for the mohawked biker, one that felt like we'd been close for years. He didn't make my blood sing the way Happy did, or melt my heart like Filip, but he endeared himself to me, so likeable and charming that I hated to see him in any kind of pain. "Who did this to you?" I said softly.

"It's nothing," he assured me, his voice low and soothing as he patted my arm kindly. "It's no big deal, Ree."

I sighed, looking up at him fretfully. "Are you sure?" I hedged. “I know some people who can beat him up for you,” I joked half-heartedly.

Juice chuckled, low in his throat and surprisingly appealing. “Funny girl,” he quipped, a bit of his New York accent slipping into his voice as he smirked at me, tugging on a wayward espresso curl. “I appreciate the concern, but I’m fine, sweetheart.”

"Hey." We both looked up as Happy appeared in the kitchen, shirtless and still looking half-asleep. “What’s going on?” he said in his gruff voice, looking back and forth between us.

Juice coughed awkwardly, stepping away from me and releasing my hair as I frowned.

“Somebody hit Juice,” I said, looking at Happy in distress. “And he won’t tell me about it.”

Juice looked wide-eyed, backing away from me as Happy quirked an eyebrow at him, scowling. “It’s nothing, Ree,” he insisted. “I’ve got work to do.” He slipped past Happy as my tattooed business partner merely glowered after him, looking grumpy and annoyed as always.

Suspicious, I looked up at him, searching his face for clues. “Do you know what that was all about?” I asked at last, crossing my arms over my chest as I studied him.

Happy shrugged, his arm brushing mine as he reached up to get a coffee mug out of the cabinet behind my head. “Looks to me like he learned a lesson,” he said cryptically.

I blinked, surprised. “Hap,” I protested, uncrossing my arms. “That’s not nice. Don’t you care about what happened to him? He’s your brother.”

He shot me a warning look then, pouring his coffee and taking a sip before taking a barely-there step closer, effectively boxing me in against the counter. “It’s not your business, Arianna,” he said evenly. “So drop it.”

I wanted to push back, to defend the- in my opinion- often misunderstood young biker, but I’d learned early on when to shut my mouth and remember my place. I worked here, and just because I liked my employers didn’t make them any less my bosses. “Alright,” I said at last, tugging awkwardly at the hem of my white V-neck tee shirt. “Whatever you say, Hap.”

He nearly shocked me out of my skin when he banged his mug down on the counter, reaching for me and gripping my face in his hands. “Remember that,” he said dangerously, and I felt myself beginning to slip, falling down into that dark, secret place where I craved his rough handling and authoritative commands. “Keep yourself out of our business, Arianna,” he growled. “Understand?”

I nodded, his gaze pinned on mine and his lips hovering a mere inch away. “Yes,” I whispered. “I promise.”

“Good.”

Though I’d craved it, hoped for it, the sudden kiss took me by surprise. I grabbed his arms to steady myself, torn between pulling away and leaning in. He owned no part of me that he didn’t pay for, by the hour, and I had every right to shove him away, and demand he keep his hands off me until I gave the okay. If he’d been anyone else, kissing me in broad daylight where any one of the Sons could walk in and catch us, I would have sent him sprawling on his ass.

But this was _Happy._ He was my business partner, my protector, and in my private heart of hearts, he was the only one who fully understood how to strip me of every single thought and boundary and inhibition, until I was nothing but a body, awash in sensations and blessedly focused on nothing but the feeling. I didn’t have much of my own, not anymore, but I had him. I _needed_ him.

I reached up to grip his hands in mine, pulling them off my face. “Hap,” I murmured, leaning back just far enough to speak. “Don’t.”

He kissed me again, hard, and the dark hunger in it made my knees weak. “You don’t want me to kiss you?” His voice was dark with a delicious promise, an animalistic growl that vibrated against my lips. “Tell me to stop.”

I looked up at him, those near-black eyes like an endless tunnel on mine. “Hap. . .” I murmured.

“Tell me to stop.” He pushed me back against the counter, his hand snaking beneath my top and gripping my hip, pulling a sharp breath from me. “Look at me and tell me you don’t want my hands on you. Look at me, Arianna, and _tell me to stop.”_

“Happy, _stop.”_ The rush of emotions was so overwhelming, scary and too much and yet so coveted that I couldn’t stand it. I grabbed his wrist, pulling his hand off my hip. “Stop,” I repeated, shakily.

He watched me carefully, studying my face for so long that I was suddenly terrified he was angry with me. But then his body went slack, the muscles losing their rigidity and the tension he’d instilled fading away. He reached out to slide his free hand over my cheek, his wrist still caught in my grip. “Alright.” His voice was even, level and calm, and I released his hand as he pulled me to him, resting his forehead on mine. His mannerisms were so much gentler in the moment than he ever was with me in the bedroom, and it stilled me. “Alright, angel,” he repeated quietly.

The use of the rare nickname threw me even more, and in my frazzled state, I let it affect me. I leaned into him, surprised when he let me, and dropped my forehead to his chest. “Thank you,” I murmured.

His hands settled on my waist, and he brushed his fingertips over my hips as he propped his chin on top of my head. “You okay?” The gruff words were brief, but it was still more than I’d expected from him.

“Mmmm.” I shrugged, noncommittal. “There's just some family things I need to deal with. It’s. . . . distracting me, that’s all.”

I felt him nod, his fingers brushing over my hips in a circular motion. “Tony okay?”

I smiled a bit. “Yeah, he’s fine. Thanks.”

“Hmm.” He gave his own vague hum in response. “You got work to do?”

“I do.” I slipped out of his arms, backing up just enough to see his face. “I should get back to it.”

“Alright.” He just looked at me a moment, his expression unreadable. Then smooth and quick as a viper, he reached out and plucked up the chain of my necklace, pinching the delicate links in his fingers.

I froze, feeling oddly exposed, as he lifted the necklace out of my shirt, high enough to expose the ring hanging from the silver chain. I’d been wearing it since last night, when I’d had another session with Filip- of which Happy had been very much aware, as my partner and protector. I’d woken up feeling warm and sated and content, in a bubble of comfort that had lasted even through Zachariah’s phone call. But it was like it had suddenly popped, and as I stood there with Happy, I felt the foolishness of mine and Filip’s affectionate little meet-ups wash over me like an icy cold tidal wave.

He studied the ring silently for a moment before shifting his gaze to me, meeting my eyes. “You wear this often?” he questioned.

I didn’t know why I suddenly felt like I’d been caught, as if I was doing something wrong by wearing Filip’s ring around my neck. I had the strangest sensation that I had been caught cheating, as if I owed my affections to no one but Hap. “Yes,” I said quietly, the chain still in his grip and my heart racing in my chest. “I do.”

I watched a vein twitching in his jaw, suddenly half-afraid he would rip it off my neck. “He isn’t going to be your Old Man,” he said then, quite matter-of-factly.

I felt as stunned as if he’d reared back and slapped me, the blunt words ringing in my ears and my brain at a loss for what to say, which reaction to express first. “Why would you say that?” I said finally. Delicately, I took the chain back from him, tucking it safely under the neck of my shirt.

He shrugged, his face blank and almost cold. “Because it’s true,” he said simply. “He isn’t.”

I crossed my arms over my chest, a strange feeling coming over me as his gaze darkened. “What makes you think I even want him to be?” I challenged.

His expression changed in an instant, going hard and cold. “Because I’ve had you naked and screaming for it in my bed,” he snapped, “stripped of every single one of those barriers you put up. But you don’t walk around wearing my ring around your neck, do you?”

I felt it then- a veil of coolness, a sort of protective shadow falling over me and snapping me back to reality. It was reminding me that someone like Hap wasn’t a person I could afford to be vulnerable with- he was someone I needed to emotionally distance myself from. Because he would never be mine, and to think so even momentarily was so damn foolish. I stepped back, away from him, and headed for the door. “I might,” I said quietly, backing out of the room, “if you’d ever given me one.”

I turned on my heel and stormed out, my mind swirling with emotion and my heart pounding in my chest. I made myself push it all away as I scooped up my purse, giving Kip a nod. He stood behind the bar with a half-healed black eye, but I was too upset to even begin to question it. “I’m going to do the shopping now,” I informed him.

He simply nodded back, dropping his gaze quickly. I pushed through the front door of the clubhouse as I heard the kitchen door swinging open behind me, refusing to look back as I crossed the lot to my car. I pulled out my keys as I got behind the wheel, turning the ignition and roaring out of TM. I didn’t have time for moody bikers and stupid, macho power plays.

I needed to check on my big brother.

* * *

Saturday, April 19th, 2008 (10:56 AM)

The next morning, I stood outside the clubhouse with Opie and Jax, grinning to myself as Julian’s red sportster zipped into the TM lot. His expression was hidden beneath his full-face helmet, and his long frame was clad in dark jeans and a black Henley, topped off with heavy black boots. He looked the same, unchanged, and a part of me I hadn’t known was worrying suddenly relaxed, my muscles unclenching.

It had taken only a small amount of pleading, just a couple of worried text messages, in order to get him to agree to come visit us. In reality, I think he was glad for the change of scenery, and the chance to see us again. It had been too long since we’d been together, and I thought the break in routine could possibly help with his artistic block.

I could feel myself bouncing on my toes, grinning madly beside Jax and Opie as Julian swung into the lot. We watched as he parked his bike across from the clubhouse, setting his feet on the ground and cutting the ignition. I couldn’t stop my delighted laugh, and before the Sons could react, I was breaking into a run, sprinting across the lot as a few of the mechanics looked up, their curiosity piqued by my echoing laughter.

Julian pulled off his helmet as I rushed at him, and his handsome grin was revealed as I threw myself into his open arms. He squeezed me tight as he got to his feet, and I could smell his familiar, oddly comforting scent of paint and sandalwood. Still locked in his grip, I laughed again as he swung me around in a circle, his scruffy beard tickling my cheek as he set me on my feet. I looked up to see him grinning at me broadly, his amber eyes mirroring mine and crinkled with happiness.

“Look at you!” I circled him teasingly as he grinned bashfully, scratching at the back of his neck and fluffing up his helmet-hair curls. “Have you gotten even taller?” I wondered aloud.

He shook his head adamantly, his grin still a mile wide. He reached out and cupped my face in his hands, turning my head this way and that, studying me with a teasingly suspicious expression.

I laughed, patting his arm affectionately. “Yeah, I cut it recently. Do you like it?”

He ran his hands over my hair from roots to tip, my brown waves a good five inches shorter than the ribcage-brushing mane he’d last seen me sporting. He nodded approvingly, and tapped his pointer and middle finger twice against the outside of my shoulder- our age-old code for ‘yes.’

“Good.” I hugged him again, hard, wrapping around his torso the way I’d done as a kid, squeezing him tightly around the middle as he hugged me back just as fiercely. “I missed you,” I said quietly. “So much.”

He rubbed my back soothingly, tipping me back to meet my gaze. He cupped my face, his expression fond, before pressing a hard kiss to my forehead. I smiled, knowing him well enough to work out what he meant- _me too, kid._

I took his hand in mine, dragging him after me towards the clubhouse. “Come and see everyone,” I urged.

I watched the wall slam up behind his eyes, the one I was so familiar with, and I felt a pang of sympathy as he looked at me resignedly. He sighed, rubbing a hand over his curls.

I hooked my arm through his, patting his bicep reassuringly. “It’ll be okay. They’ve been forewarned. No awkward pauses, I promise.”

He nodded then, looking a bit more at ease. Still, I felt for my almost-twin. It was always hard for Julian, those first five or so introductory minutes that it took for new people to establish that he was A) mute, B) not deaf, and therefore not fluent in American Sign Language, and C) not willing to perform like a showpony for their entertainment. Over the years, he’d grown accustomed to the awkward pauses and confused looks whenever he met new people, so he followed me without protest towards the clubhouse.

Jax was smiling as we approached, with Opie waiting politely just over his shoulder. “Hey, man,” he greeted Julian, offering his hand. “Jax. Nice to see you again.” They’d met at the funeral, and he’d been kind and understanding about Julian’s diagnosis- something I’d never forgotten, and never would. “How’s it going?”

Julian shook his hand, giving him a brief smile and a nod. He turned to Opie next, holding out his hand expectantly.

“Opie,” the bearded biker said. “Nice to meet you.”

Julian shook his hand, offering a polite smile in return.

Jax plucked a cigarette from his kutte pocket, popping it between his lips. "You excited to see Tony later?" he wanted to know.

I gave him a grateful look, happy he was making a valiant effort to include Julian. A lot of people tended to assume that his mutism was a choice- one that meant he didn't want to to talk, or be included in conversations. None of that was true. His mutism was a sort of symptom- an after-effect of the trauma he’d endured as a kid, and the resulting anxiety disorder that followed. As an adult, he'd learned that some interactions were unavoidable, and he'd become accustomed to people expecting him to be a part of the conversation. It meant a lot to me that Jax wasn't yet going to lapse into what I called Phase Two, which was when people ran out of things to say to Julian, and stopped trying to include him anymore.

Julian nodded back, smiling brightly. He turned to me then, his eyebrows raised questioningly. He held his hands sideways in front of him, a couple of feet apart, then raised one palm-side down, about eye height.

I grinned. "Just wait until you see him. He's huge."

Opie smiled, following the flow of the conversation easily enough. "That kid's nearly my size now," he added.

Julian looked at him kindly, giving him a friendly smile. He made an "oh, boy" expression, rubbing a hand over his face in mock exhaustion.

I giggled. "Tony's a good kid, J. He's no trouble at all."

Jax was watching us curiously, studying the way we communicated with avid interest. I knew it was interesting to some people, so I'd grown used to others watching us interact.

Julian smirked, giving me a playful look and waving a hand palm-side down in front of him, a couple of inches higher than his head.

I laughed. "No, he's nothing like Kieran was," I promised, giggling. "Not a troublemaking bone in his body."

Julian looked satisfied, giving a firm, single nod.

Just then, Tig emerged from one of the dorms, slamming the door behind him as he made his way towards us. We were gathered by the clubhouse entrance, blocking the flow of traffic as introductions were made. He paused warily as he spied us all hovering in the doorway, and I stiffened, taking an involuntary step towards my big brother.

Whether he thought I was feeling protective or needed protecting, Julian reached out to put an arm around me, tucking me in tightly beneath his arm. I smiled up at him gratefully as Tig frowned, strolling closer.

“Hey, Tig,” Jax greeted him, waving the Sergeant at Arms over, completely oblivious to our awkward stand-off earlier in the week. “This is Ree’s brother, Julian.”

My eyes narrowed, and my hackles rose in a gesture so natural to me I barely noticed it. I hadn’t seen Tig around yesterday or this morning, and I didn’t think he had any idea about Julian’s disability. I stiffened, ready to jump down his throat at the rude, sarcastic comments I knew were coming.

Tig studied him for a brief moment before reluctantly holding out his hand, giving Julian’s a quick shake. “Hey.”

Julian nodded back at him, cool and collected as ever. He’d grown used to people’s discomfort at his silence, and it didn’t upset him like it used to. Still, I hated the looks and the questions, so I braced myself for the confrontation.

Tig met his eyes, cocking his head. “You in town for a while?” he questioned, more suspicious than polite- as always.

Julian shrugged, tilting his hand back and forth in a ‘so-so’ gesture. The way he often did- and maybe I had, over the years, fallen into the habit of enabling him- he looked to me to translate, pulling me into the old habit of speaking for him.

“Just for a little while,” I said reluctantly, annoyed at having to talk to the Sergeant at Arms at all. “He’s staying with me and Tony for a couple weeks.”

Tig glanced between us, confusion furrowing his brow. He looked back at Julian with a frown. “Are you-” he began.

“He’s mute,” I said shortly. “He doesn’t speak.”

Julian’s hand tightened on my shoulder, whether in distress or to try and calm me, I didn’t know. He met Tig’s probing gaze with a ‘what are ya gonna do?’ kind of look, throwing out his most endearing, crooked grin, and I had to smile.

“Huh.” Tig’s glance slid over to me, and I looked back at him coolly, still upset about his baseless accusations earlier in the week. He looked at me silently for a moment before suddenly saying, “Ree, can I talk to you for a minute?”

I felt the surprise of his brothers around me, and I raised my eyebrows, intrigued. “Sure,” I said at last. I looked up at Julian, rubbing a hand over his back reassuringly. “Be right back, okay?”

He nodded, using his free hand to gesture back at his bike before rubbing his hand over my hair protectively, mussing it as he gave me a questioning look.

I patted his chest, smiling. “I’ll be fine. Go ahead and put your bags in my car.” I pulled my keys off my jean’s belt loop and handed them over, giving him my best ‘I’ve got this’ look.

After a moment he nodded, giving Opie and Jax a polite nod and wave before heading back towards his bike.

I fell into step behind Tig as he led me around to the side of the clubhouse, where a handful of fiberglass picnic tables were spread out beneath the overhang. He ambled over to one, sitting atop it and propping his feet on the bench. I slipped my hands in my front pockets, eyeing him carefully as I stood in front of him. I didn’t say anything, figuring this little conversation was his idea, and he could jump into it when he was ready.

He spoke so suddenly that it caught me off guard, both the subject matter and the instantaneousness of it. “I didn’t know you had a mute brother,” he said at last.

I glanced back at Julian, who was busy unstrapping his bags from the back of his bike. “You’ve never asked,” I said simply, looking back at him evenly.

He frowned at that, but kept any comebacks to himself. “How many brothers do you have, again?” he said instead.

Cautiously, I took a seat on the bench, by his feet, and looked over my shoulder at him. “Seven. Six older, and one younger.”

“Tony,” he said, nodding. “I’ve met him.”

I nodded back, ticking them off on my fingers. “Tony’s the youngest. He’s Mama and Daddy’s only biological kid- a surprise, really,” I said, smiling to myself as Tig looked down at me, listening intently. “He’s sixteen now. Before him was me, the only girl. I’m ten years older than Tony.”

Tig nodded. “I knew that. You’re the only ones who ever lived in Charming.”

“Right.” I felt my tension easing, feeling pleasantly surprised that we were having a normal, civil conversation. “We moved here so Daddy could start the business. Tony and I were the only kids still living at home.”

Tig pulled out a pack of cigarettes, offering me one as I shook my head, declining politely. “Who are the others again?” he asked, patting himself down for a lighter with a cigarette perched between his lips.

I smiled to myself, pointing to his kutte. “Left pocket,” I said, as he looked down, giving me a little nod of thanks as he pulled out his Bic. “Well,” I started, “Zachariah is the oldest. He’s twelve years older than me- thirty-eight. He’s a stockbroker in New York,” I added. “He’s got a wife and a little boy, Noah. He’s three.”

“You see him much?” he questioned, flicking the ash off his cigarette.

“Every Christmas,” I confirmed. “More often lately, since. . . since Mama died. They’ll all be flying in for the holidays this year,” I added. “A kind of massive reunion for the eight of us.”

He nodded. “That’s good,” he said quietly, and I knew enough about him to know he was probably thinking of his own kids, the twin girls he rarely got to see.

Because I hated for anyone to hurt over family, even someone who annoyed me, I continued, hoping to distract him. “Matthias is the next oldest,” I went on. “He’s thirty-six. He’s a writer, out in Philly.”

“He married?” Tig asked, those ice blue eyes steady on mine.

I shook my head. “Matty’s kind of a loner. He’s pretty reclusive, most of the time. Julian and I are the ones he contacts the most.” Tig merely nodded, so I continued. “Kieran’s next,” I said, beginning to smile. “He’s thirty-five. He owns a bar in Austin. You guys would like him,” I added, thinking of my wild-eyed, party-monster older brother. “He’s a total bad-ass,” I laughed. “The stereotypical bad boy, tattooed and pierced and always drinking and flirting. He’s obviously not married,” I chuckled.

Tig grinned. “He sounds familiar.”

I burst out a laugh, oblivious to Jax and Opie’s curious stares. “Oh, my God,” I laughed. “I didn’t even realize it, but you’re right. He’s a lot like you. Just nicer,” I teased, smiling to ease the blow.

Thankfully, Tig just rolled his eyes, shaking his head. “Yeah, yeah, kid. Keep going.”

I turned on the bench to face him, tucking my foot up under me as I continued, grinning. “Isaiah’s next. He’s thirty-three, and a Physician Assistant. He works with doctors,” I added, as Tig looked at me blankly. “He lives in Seattle. He’s got a long-term girlfriend, Sally. She’s a nurse, of course.”

“Of course,” Tig repeatedly, only slightly sarcastic as he stubbed out his cigarette, flicking the butt away.

“Julian was the next one brought home,” I went on. “He’s thirty-one, and a painter. He lives down state, in Long Beach.”

Tig gave me a curious look, leaning his elbows on his knees. “What’s up with him?” he asked, in his usual blunt away. “Why can’t he talk?”

I sighed, used to the question but still unable to give a brief, concise answer. “It’s not that he can’t,” I explained. “Or rather, not that he _physically_ can’t. He’s capable of doing so, and he does, rarely, with me and Matthias. And Mama, before,” I added softly. “But it’s a disorder- it’s usually diagnosed in conjunction with an anxiety disorder, or trauma. Julian experienced some abuse as a kid,” I said vaguely, not about to spill his secrets with anyone. “He was traumatized. The mutism developed as an after-effect of it. It’s not always a life-long diagnosis, but it seems to be in Julian’s case. Sometimes mute people just don’t want to speak, or go through the therapies to help them re-learn how. My parents tried to help him, but he’s really strong-willed. He just doesn’t want to talk. So we’ve stopped trying to make him.”

Tig nodded slowly, taking it all in. “You’ve got an interesting way of communicating,” he said at last. “You seem to understand him. He didn’t want to learn sign language?” he questioned.

I shook my head. “My mom tried to get him to learn, but he refused. He told her that it defeated the purpose. He told her he wasn’t willing to _talk_ to people, so why would he want to communicate with them another way?” I rubbed my arms, suddenly feeling cold and tired. “In a way, mutism isn’t a choice, anymore than anxiety disorders are a choice. But on the other hand, treating it _is_ a choice. Mute people can speak- they’re _physically_ able, but their anxiety doesn’t allow them to. It’s kind of like the ‘deer in headlights’ reaction- they just freeze up, and they can’t get the words out. Julian’s gotten less anxious as an adult, but it’s habit now, and he’s been this way since he was four years old. He chooses not to speak, or get therapy to help him learn how. That’s his choice, same as a person with anxiety can choose not to take medication or get therapy. He just doesn’t want to.”

He nodded. “I guess that makes sense,” he said slowly. “But he has to communicate sometimes,” he insisted. “Like at the grocery store and stuff. How does he get by when there’s no one there to translate?”

I sighed, feeling sad for my almost-twin. “Honestly? He lets people assume what they want. A lot of times they think he’s deaf, and he kind of lets them, because they’ll back off if they can’t communicate with him. If they know ASL, he just shakes his head and refuses to engage. Eventually, people figure it out, or just think he’s weird, and stop trying to communicate with him.”

Wordlessly, Tig slipped off his leather jacket, passing it to me as I blinked in surprise. “You’re shivering,” he said briefly.

I studied him a moment, wondering if there was more of this Tig hidden away inside somewhere. “Thanks,” I said quietly. I pulled it on over my gray tee shirt, feeling suddenly regretful of my outburst at the burger stand a few days ago.

Tig gave me a searching look, before nodding his head at me. “There’s one more, right?” he prompted.

I nodded, my mind swirling. _He’s being so decent. Why have I never seen this side of him before?_ “Sebastian,” I concluded. “Bash. He’s thirty. He owns a bookstore in Boston.”

“Is he married?” he asked, and I could tell he was trying hard to be polite.

I shook my head. “Girlfriend,” I corrected, looking up at him. “For about a year now. Elena.”

Tig nodded, his curls waving in a sudden gust of wind. “That’s a handful,” he said at last. “Your parents must have been frickin’ saints.”

I clasped my hands together, suddenly feeling drained and emotional. “Tig,” I said finally. “I know you didn’t ask me over here to find out about my family life. What’s up?”

He looked at me silently for a moment before rubbing his hand over his face, looking tired. “No, I didn’t, kid.” He sighed, sitting up straight and looking at me so intently that I could only stare. “Look,” he began. “I think you and I got off on the wrong foot. I don’t have time to be getting into these little tiffs with you. So why don’t we just start over and try to be civil?”

Though his wording annoyed me, I recognized it for what it was- typical Tig language, his way of putting up walls, hiding behind his flippant demeanor and ‘don’t give a shit’ attitude. I could understand his need to act that way to protect himself- I’d spent a lifetime with Julian, after all- so I let it go. “Fair enough,” I agreed. “Does that mean you’ll stop trying to act like a hard ass around me?”

He scowled. “I don’t know what you mean,” he said sarcastically.

“You just did it,” I said flatly. “We were sitting here and talking just fine, and then you had to slip into that ‘bad ass biker’ persona you put on around strangers.” I glared right back at him, unwilling to back down. “I’ve known you for over a decade, Tig. You don’t have to keep up the act around me. I’ve seen you be yourself- I’ve seen how much you love your brothers, and the club. And Gemma,” I added, as he frowned. “You’re not incapable of caring about someone. I get that you save it for the people who matter, and I’m not one of them. But you don’t have to treat me like some stranger that you’re trying to keep afraid of you.”

I thought he’d snap, bark at me to mind my own business or call me some kind of name. But then he sighed, irritated, and looked away. “Fine,” he snapped. “You want honesty? Then you’ll get the real me.” He glared at me, pointing a finger. “But that doesn’t mean I’m going to be drooling over you like those other guys,” he clarified. “You’re getting the real Tig, bad moods and all.”

I grinned. “Do you have any other moods?” I asked innocently.

I expected a curse, or a glare, but he snorted, hopping off the table and surprising me by reaching out and mussing my hair. “Get outta here,” he barked, but it was without heat. “Before I get all misty-eyed about this little moment,” he added sarcastically.

I slipped off his leather, passing it back with a smirk. “Whatever you say, Tiggy.”

He growled, snatching his jacket back. “Beat it,” he ordered, as I laughed, heading back towards Jax and Opie. “Go on, beat it!”

I approached the boys with a grin, and they looked up at me, raising their eyebrows. “You guys all good?” Jax questioned, as Julian came strolling back over, his cell phone in his hand.

I glanced back at Tig, crossing over to the auto bay with a typical frown on his face. I grinned, turning back to my brother with a laugh caught in my throat. “Just fine,” I said airily, reaching my hands out as Julian wordlessly held up the black hoodie I’d had lying on my passenger seat. I took it, slipping my arms into the sleeves. “Everything is absolutely fine.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Kudos❤ and comments🗨 are very much appreciated!


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